


Fast Lane

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F1 - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt #105: Arthur's a step away from gaining the WDC, when his car breaks down. Sour from the loss of the title he'd wanted so much and striven for so hard, he asks Excalibur's chief engineer be given the sack. Merlin Emrys, young and practically out of uni, steps in as new CD. Pity that Merlin's already off to a bad start with Excalibur's top racer. And to say that the new season's just begun. Or an F1 AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Kindly beta'd by Chyldofeternity and Brunettepet. Thank you both so much.

Arthur set off down the pit-lane. The EX-25 lurched forward, groaned, and almost stalled. Arthur rolled his eyes, hating as he never had before the new gear change mechanism. “Fuck,” he mumbled, hitting the wheel, glove padding out the effects of the hit. Telling himself to stay calm, he programmed in the correct gear change and, car rumbling as it should, drove back towards the race track, careful about not exceeding the speed limit. He'd be a fool to risk a penalty lap now.

However, even though the pit stop team had made it in 6.8 seconds, a better time than that of most of his rivals, when Arthur resumed the race he'd dropped back to sixth position.

He needed more.

If he wanted a shot at the championship he needed to edge out Valiant in front of him. Maths was against him. He was so many points behind he needed a full victory now to still be able to compete for the championship this year.

G-forces slicing through him as he gained speed, he went down on the accelerator, daring to do so even though he was aware of the existence of a chicane about to come. As if that wasn't enough he had two other cars darting about his rear-wing, pushing him nose to tail.

Sweat running down his face behind his helmet, Arthur realised this was the moment he'd have to make a split second decision, one that would influence the rest of the race. He either pressed onto his course to try and gain on Valiant – who had already refuelled and had the advantage of those in front of him – or he did the prudent thing and slowed down, preparing for the impending curve and the pressure at his heel.

It was a no contest decision. He didn't want to lose to Valiant. He pressed on, tailing Valiant's Western, pressing on him first from one side, then the other. It was crazy but he was making Valiant nervous. That was the plan. Valiant wasn't famed for being able to keep his cool. A troubled Valiant would make mistakes.

Arthur's strategy seemed to be succeeding for Valiant was reacting. For one he was trying to hold him off, protecting his position by swerving left and right. For another he was becoming more predictable. He closed the access to the curve by veering to the left, bottling Arthur off, but in a way Arthur could almost call before it happened.

Nevertheless Arthur had to go over the inside curb to avoid impact. That was the way it had to be. That was racing. Action and reaction.

“Arthur, stop it,” the team boss said over the radio. “You'll kill yourself.”

“I know what I'm doing,” Arthur said, still attempting to squeeze ahead, fingers twitching over the controls. “He's slowing down too. I just need an in.”

“Arthur, don't show off now.”

“I'm not showing off!” He went into the dirt but controlled the car and wrested it back onto the lane, once again a hair's breadth from Valiant's tail. And then the car started sliding around and he to shake inside it. “What the fuck!” he said. “What the hell?”

The team's engineer's voice sounded in his ear: “You're dumping coolant, Arthur. Come back to the pit.”

Arthur had the numbers by heart; if he didn't win this race or place second he could say good-bye to the championship.

“Arthur, you're risking others as well.”

Arthur blinked off sweat and thought of the podium.

“Arthur.”

Arthur felt his heartbeat in his fingertips. “Got you.”

He drove back to the paddock, techs surrounding the car, banged on the wheel, then released his seatbelt harness, took out the wheel and leapt out of the car.

Taking his helmet off, he left the car to the mechanics and stalked into the paddock, shouting. “I've had enough!” he said. “The Ex 25 is falling to pieces. Has been since the racing season began.”

Mr Taliesin, the team boss, met him halfway inside the private area, where cameras couldn't follow. “Arthur. Arthur, calm down, please.”

“That car is dangerous,” he barked, pointing his helmet at the team head engineer, John Bedivere. “Ever since he's been on board it's been like that but this takes the cake. He's lost me the title.”

“There's something wrong with the brake cooling mechanism,” said Bedivere. “I'll fix it.”

“Won't make much of a difference this season, will it?” Arthur spat, sweat running into his eyes.

Bedivere blanched. “Not this championship, no. But we can prepare for the next.”

Arthur walked up to him, heat in his face. He knew he must look a sight with hair plastered to his skull and likely a murderous expression, but he didn't care. He'd lost face. He'd lost so much. “It could have been this one,” Arthur said, with a cold, cruel smile. “It should have but for your stupid modifications.” He turned to Mr Taliesin. “Either you get rid of him.” He tilted his thumb at Bedivere, “or I won’t be racing for Excalibur next year, contract or no.”

He stormed off to Mr Taliesin's protestations, Lancelot, Excalibur's second driver, goggling at him as if he'd sprouted a second head.

****

Mr Taliesin pawed at Merlin's file one more time. “Your MSc lab project was patented, I see.”

This was Merlin's third job interview so he didn't know what kind of answer to give. That project had been meant as a lab exercise but when Professor Chung had read the report accompanying it and tested his model – wind tunnel and all – he said it'd be criminal not to patent it. Merlin had gone with the proposal because his professor knew better. Admitting to it today, he was afraid, would sound like bragging. He went for telling the truth in a roundabout way. “The uni was thinking of the legal issues involved.”

“Well, I wouldn't say no to buying your design,” Mr Taliesin said, turning a page. “It would make Excalibur more competitive.”

Merlin had heard about Excalibur's less than lucky streak in the past year. He couldn't have avoided the news. It had been in all the newspapers dedicating a page to sports. Yet he didn't think talking about them would endear him to his prospective boss. “You want to buy my patent?” Merlin said.

Mr Taliesin nodded. “For the new car we want you to develop.”

A grin spread on Merlin's face. He knew he should keep his cool but he couldn't help reacting. “So I've got the job?”

Mr Taliesin returned Merlin's grin with a smile. “Indeed, and not just as team engineer. We trust the person who devised this-” He tapped the sheet of paper resting on his desk, the one with the patent design. “To come up with more brilliant ideas. We trust him, you, to be our Chief Designer.”

Merlin spluttered. His heart took a little leap in his chest. “But I didn't even apply for the position.”

“We were looking for a CD,” said Mr Taliesin. “Our careers office sent me the blueprints for your project and on that basis I decided.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, nearly stuttering. “Oh that's...”

“We'll discuss figures later,” Mr Taliesin said, closing the folder he'd been studying. “For now I suppose I should welcome you on board.”

As Mr Taliesin stood and held out his hand, Merlin matched him and shook it firmly. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Thank you.”

When Merlin walked out of the sleek office, Will stood up from one of the chairs lining the anteroom and lolloped up to him. “Well,” he said, clearly trying to read Merlin's face for clues. “How did it go?”

Merlin shook his head, biting his bottom lip, which quivered. He then broke into a smile he was sure was silly. “I got it. I'm their new CD!”

“Christ,” said Will, hugging him and clapping him on the back as he did so. When that wasn't enough Will tried to lift him and since Will wasn't exactly built like Schwarzenegger was in his prime, they almost ended up rolling on the floor. “Christ, I can't believe my mate's got a job in Formula 1!”

 

****

> **February, pre-season test.**
> 
> **Leafield Technical Centre, Leafield, Oxfordshire.**

Crossing the race car bay, where the mechanics where working to get the new prototype ready for testing, Arthur walked into the catering area and to the coffee machine. Theoretically, he shouldn't be touching stimulants so as not to affect his performance, which would, in turn, affect his assessment of the car, but he couldn't help himself. He needed a boost.

While Bedivere had been given the sack over the winter, Arthur hadn't been informed as to the identity of his new replacement. The new Chief Designer was an unknown, who, Mr Taliesin had promised, was also a genius gifted with brilliant ideas and a magic touch for both technical innovation and teamwork. That sounded to Arthur like a sales-pitch designed to persuade him to stay on the team and accept the new recruit. Since he wanted to stay on anyway, and the more so after he'd cooled off after the end of the last Championship, he'd obviously accepted the shoeing in of the new engineer.

He still needed a coffee though. Too much depended on what was going to happen today. Even if he only had to complete a straight-aero test today that didn't mean that a lot of things didn't hang in the balance. That test would be enough to prove whether the new prototype was better than last year's failure of a car. If it wasn't, then Arthur was done, both with the team and as a driver. He was nearing thirty; the clock was ticking.

When he found the vending machine, he was stymied to find someone was hogging it. It was a scrap of a boy, a mess of unkempt dark hair unfurling on top of his head, a shirt sticking to his back as though the air around them wasn't frosty and perspiration was normal. This guy was lanky as some kind of new calf muddling through his first pen prance. His shoulder span was wide enough though. Overall he came across as gauche and slightly underfed.

As for his calling, he had a pair of headphones slung around his neck and this told Arthur he was some kind of techie or other. They did have a few young ones.

Arthur wanted his coffee, but the man was about to punch in his request and this meant he'd have to

wait till he was done. “Mine is a macchiato,” Arthur said.

Tech boy whirled around, his finger poised to hit the button that went with a Hot Chocolate caption.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I was here first.”

“And I'm the team's best pilot and in a hurry.”

“Well,” Tech Boy said, eyebrows meeting over eyes that were flashing fire. “Get it yourself.”

“I'm sorry but do you know who I am?”

“Unfortunately,” said Tech Boy, pushing the Hot Chocolate button, “I do.” The vending machine spat out a plastic cup that slowly filled up. “And I know who I am.” He thumbed at his chest. “Not your serving boy.”

“You work for the Excalibur team,” said Arthur, crossing his arms. “That means you have to do your best to ensure I'm in peak condition.”

Tech boy said, “Oh, I see, maybe I should go on my knees and suck your cock. Just to ensure you reach peak condition.”

Arthur opened his mouth to splutter, shock heating his cheeks. He wasn't a prude; he'd had his fair share of paddock girls and boys met in clubs. But this was definitely a first in terms of sarcasm and lewdness. At least on the job. He was racing through a series of reply options that would make him come out on top in the trading barbs race when Mr Taliesin shambled over.

“Oh, Arthur,” he said, “I see you've met our new Chief Designer.”

Arthur's head snapped from Taliesin to Tech Boy. “He's our new CD? Him!” He raised both eyebrows speculatively. “I'm sorry but are we sure he's old enough to have an engineering degree?”

“Whiz kid,” Mr Taliesin said. “Getting Merlin was a stroke of luck.”

Merlin said, “Actually I got a first in Mechanical Engineering from Cambridge and an MSc in Race Car Aerodynamics from Southampton, so you're wrong. I'm old enough.”

Arthur stared. Merlin looked as if he couldn't possibly have achieved all that. A work experience tech boy? Sure. Especially if he had connections. Their new CD? Not so much.

Almost reading his mind, Mr Taliesin said, “We decided to go for innovation this time.”

Arthur hadn't liked Bedivere. Not because he was a bit staid and his ideas on aerodynamics were of the past. He simply couldn't put up with a car that broke down two times out of three. That didn't mean he wanted a primary school reject to design the engine he'd have to not only test but compete with. “And you had to go with someone in need of weaning?” he asked, running his eyes over this Merlin person.

“Hey,” Merlin said, “One, I'm here so you could at least include me in the conversation. And two, try the car. The EX-26 is my design. If you've got shit to say about it after you've driven it, we can talk.”

“Right, I'd like to be alive in order to do that,” Arthur said.

Merlin's hands went to his hips. “You will be. Don't worry. You'll be so alive you'll be praising the 26 to the skies.”

Arthur huffed; Merlin huffed. They stormed off in different directions.

The 26 was a different car. Even a sweeping glance could tell you that. The barge board was wider than the one that had gone before, sporting a mixture of panels. It had cut edges at the upper side of the main board and smaller vanes. The front wing had a new design. The end-plate was more elongated and featured four vertical gills instead of the three the EX-25 had. In the few months between the end of the last championship and now, the engineering team – Merlin – had redesigned the Excalibur almost from scratch. Any idiot could see that.

“It's different.”

“I changed the barge board to improve airflow,” Merlin said, watching the car as the Excalibur mechanics flitted around to prepare it for the installation run. “Oh and you'll notice the small carbon plate between the two bigger panels. That's also a new add-on. I'm sure you'll like the overall effect.”

“I won't know till I try it,” Arthur said, sceptical.

Mechanics making way for him, Arthur climbed into the car's cockpit and strapped himself up.

Merlin walked up to him and leant against the EX-26. “Just tell me how you find the on-low fuel option,” Merlin said.

“I know how installation runs go, Merlin,” Arthur said in a long suffering tone. “I just hope this can go further on low fuel than the 25 could.”

Merlin grinned. “You'll see.”

Arthur strapped himself down, lowered his helmet on his head, and focused on running the test lap.

The car was started; the mechanics cleared the car. Merlin gave him the thumbs up.

The EX-26 barrelled out of the paddock. He spun it out with flair and as it got momentum he could tell that this new model ran like a charm. He focused on weighing the car's responses when taking curves and on gauging the amount of petrol consumed. He had an eye out for tyre response and grip. He assessed the overall performance and reliability.

The low air temperature was causing tyre graining, which made it difficult to get test conditions accurately, but even so he saw the difference between this new model and the old one. The aerodynamics configuration was new and the EX26 was flying.

He pushed the prototype to its limits just to see what it could do. The response was perfect.

He whooped, laughed, and ended up with a smile on his face. This was driving.

He made the car go faster still, not because it was needed – he'd never pull this performance on the race track with other cars around – but because he'd never been given something like this to drive.

Arthur was a racer because he loved speed and mechanical feats and this was one. Not that Merlin needed to know.

By lap's end he'd sobered. When he stopped the car, the team of mechanics surrounded him, the car went up on air jacks so the tyres could be checked and Merlin came up to him. “So how was it?”

Arthur took off his helmet, his features schooled into sobriety. “We could shave off seconds yet.”

Merlin nodded to himself. “We can fine-tune the balance,” he said, biting his lower lip. Then he clapped his hands and told the rest of the team, “Strip the engine and gearbox. Remove the KERS and let's test this baby.” He patted the car and went stumbling back into the innermost area of the paddock. “Oh how about taking the new rear wing design for greater down-force?” He was addressing another engineer, leaving Arthur to extricate himself from the car. As if his input wasn't as valid as that of any engineer on team. Or more. He was the one who'd have to milk the car for best performance, the one in whose hands everything lay. Merlin, apparently, didn't think so.

Merlin's taking it to the engineering team meant that he thought of Arthur as a lowly racer. Sadly, that wasn't a first. People respected him. He'd gained that respect because he'd always pushed the envelope and proved he was good at what he did.

But sometimes some boyos with uni degrees scoffed at Arthur for being the brawn behind the wheel. Arthur hated it. He was used to being acknowledged. So maybe he hadn't done extensive studies; he'd come to the racing world when he was eighteen and there'd been no time for that, but he was still someone who understood his job and what came with it. He thought in terms of engines, performance and yield. Construction technique was close to his heart. He understood each and every design presented to him. Before Bedivere he'd even given engineers a pointer or two. He didn't like being slighted.

He pouted.

Mr Taliesin came bounding over to him. “I just saw the lap test results,” he said. “They're fantastic.”

“Better than last year,” Arthur admitted even though he hadn't had a look at the stats yet. He could guess what they were on the basis of how the car had felt.

“Way better,” Mr Taliesin said, looking at Merlin, who was starting some computer simulations to establish something or other only he knew about. “I'm quite glad you agree with me.”

Helmet under his arm, Arthur said, “Not about him. I'm not sure I agree about him.” He tipped his head at Merlin, who was currently walking to and fro with a tablet in his hand, an eye on the set of monitors hanging over his head. “I don't think he's going to live up to your expectations.”

Mr Taliesin put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. “Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Half a season,” said Arthur, holding up a finger. “That's as long as I'm giving him. For now let's see if we even qualify.”

“I'm sure we will,” said Mr Taliesin with a glint in his eyes that was all about ambition. “I'm sure we will.”

This meant, of course, that Arthur would have to put up with Merlin for the foreseeable future.

 

****

> **Excalibur Communication Centre**

Merlin was sitting in the entertaining area, the fibreglass roof allowing light to shine on his table. Merlin had chosen this spot because it was the closest to the glass fronted fridge and coffee machine that he could find, making it easy for him to make lots of trips over to them so that he could have endless reserves of tea and snacks.

Currently there were three empty Styrofoam cups sitting next to his tablet and a series of wrappers were strewn about the gleaming stainless steel table surface.

A 62-inch plasma screen was blaring on, showing sports montages, but Merlin wasn't paying attention to that but rather to his calculations. He was so much in the zone, checking designs, that he didn't notice someone stomping downstairs until he was faced with Lancelot.

“Saw you from the mezzanine above,” he said in explanation. “Can I sit?”

Merlin tried to clear the table of litter by moving it all to one side. “Sure, sorry.”

Lancelot lifted his hand. “Not a problem, I was just wondering why you were sitting here when you could have asked for an office upstairs.”

“Why wouldn't I? This is a nice spot,” said Merlin, winging an eyebrow. “I have a nice view of the spiral staircases over there and the kitchens are closer.”

“Merlin,” Lancelot said in a calm, amicable, yet no nonsense tone. “I know I don't know you but I don't believe you.”

Merlin sighed, long and rattling. “All right, then. You got me. I was avoiding Arthur Pendragon.”

Lancelot tipped his head to the side. “Arthur? Why?”

“He's...” If Merlin thought back to the man's behaviour from the day they'd met, he'd have only one thing to say about Arthur Pendragon. “He's a conceited, arrogant twit. A true wank--” Merlin decided self-censoring was the better part of valour. “Prat.”

Lancelot's lips dipped downward. “I'll give you this. He comes across as very self assured at times.”

“If that's your definition of self-assured,” Merlin huffed. “I'd say he's more like Emperor Nero ordering his slaves about.”

“But he's fast,” said Lancelot. “Very.”

“I thought it was a given in Formula 1,” Merlin said. While Merlin knew how to build fast F1 cars, he'd never interacted with pilots before and wasn't sure of their standards. “I mean you can go as fast.”

Merlin knew; he'd seen Lancelot race the EX-26 during a further string of tests Arthur hadn't participated in.

Lancelot smiled softly. “You're right,” he said even though Merlin had the distinct impression Lancelot wanted to contradict him. “There are many fast drivers out there. I'm fast enough. Valiant's a crazy beast on the track and everyone knows that.” Lancelot lifted a shoulder. “But this is about more than raw speed. As you said, Arthur is just as fast as others are but he's got an eye for data analysis that is truly second to none.”

“But he can read his data in the telemetry charts,” Merlin said. “They will always tell him what’s going on with the car. Believe me, I know. I get the same data on my laptop.”

“It's just not the magic of science though,” Lancelot said, moving his head from side to side in denial.

Merlin was unconvinced. He very much believed in raw numbers and tech data. It was his job. Arthur could benefit from them just as much as Merlin did via the engine control unit attached to his car. The data acquisition package was at his disposal: on-board logging electronics supplied him with all he needed to know. “Then what is it that makes him so special then?” Merlin asked.

“He has perfect recall of every lap he drives,” said Lancelot, his tone warm and full of admiration. “He can tell you at any moment how the EX is handling. He can do that for every corner and every bump in the circuit. Not even a computer works as well. It's a sight to see.” Merlin could see that Lancelot was warming to the subject. “Pacing aside, his driving may seem aggressive and a bit foolhardy, but that's a cover really. In actuality Arthur's uncannily gifted, level-headed, and very clever behind the wheel.”

Ever since taking on the job Merlin had watched one or two tapes of earlier races. “He's not that smart. He isn't prudent.”

“Are you talking about his early days?” asked Lancelot, conceding. “Because he's not entirely like that now.”

Merlin begged to disagree. One of the last races in the past championship had seen Arthur pushing it till his car broke down. “Not really.” The video he'd been given was only months old. It had been supplied to him because of the car breaking down incident. Merlin had been meant to review the video so that he could fix whatever was wrong with the EX-25. (That had meant lots and lots.) But what he'd gleaned from it was something else. Sometimes Arthur did stupid things. “More like a few months ago.”

Lancelot let out a big, shuddering breath. “He's nearly 30. That's not young in drivers' terms. His contract with Excalibur is up next year. He's under pressure to perform well.”

“I see,” said Merlin, who didn't wholly, truth be told. He was pretty sure Arthur Pendragon was a show off who thought the rest of the world should bow down to him because of his glamour job and impressive good looks. “Correct me if I am wrong, but I was under the impression he gives you a hard time too. Treats you like his lackey, turning you into some sort of second fiddle, and doesn't allow for you being as much a part of the team as he is. Why are you even defending him?”

“But that's Formula One,” Lancelot said calmly. “If you have a star racer you'll favour him. But that's because he's the one with the true chance at winning the driver championship.” Lancelot smiled to himself. “Arthur's more often than not in that position because of the way he performs. So, yes, he can be a handful, but there's more to him than that and most of his privileges are based on how well he does. And this is coming from someone who remembers Arthur from his more

immature days. He was worse when he first came on. And yet there was something about him, you know.” Lancelot beamed. “He was this fresh faced blond boy just out of Formula Ford and there he was telling us all how it was done. And the truth is he really knew.” Lancelot leant a little forward with the clear intent of catching Merlin's eyes. “Do you understand why we put up with him now?”

“No, why?” Merlin asked, not wanting to give in to the lure of success when it's just an excuse the higher ups have come up with to justify their greed for wins. Formula 1 was a multi-billion business. The higher ups clung to great performers and allowed them lots .

“Because even though he may still have his moments,” Lancelot began.

Merlin cut him off. “Like ordering me to get him coffee when I hadn't even got mine and I was first queuing anyway...”

“Even though he still has those,” Lancelot said, face gentle but eyebrow arched, “he's a good guy. Give him a chance.”

Merlin took a sip of the dregs of his gone-cold tea. His shoulders slumped in defeat, “I suppose I shouldn't deny talent a chance, should I?”

Lancelot looked beatific.

 

*****

 

It was a week to the start of the new season and they'd all done the impossible in terms of working on the new engine. Arthur had tested the car in all possible set-ups, ramped up his gym regime to make sure he was in top form, and been more attentive to his diet for the same reason.

Mr Taliesin had worked the PR field and the engineering team had holed itself up in the pit and at headquarters in order to work on modifications that would make the F-26 even faster than it had been on the first testing day.

Since everyone on the team was on countdown and looking to the start of new season with both hope and anxiety, Mr Taliesin had organised a party so they could all unwind a little.

The party was hosted at a London club called Pink Panther, the VIP floor of which had been reserved for the team and their guests.

Arthur had one in the shape of Vivian, a paddock girl. She was blonde and petite, loved motors – engines turned her on – and was as much of a looker as anyone would wish. Her conversation wasn't exactly brilliant, though she understood F1, but she was a great dancer and that was why Arthur had thought she'd make a fine companion for the night.

“Why don't we go to the bar?” said Arthur, leading Vivian to it. They had to weave through the dancing crowd. “I'm sure you'd like a drink.”

“I want a Mai-Tai,” Vivian said, smiling brightly. “And I want a cherry on top.” 

“Heard the lady?” Arthur told the barman. “A Mai-Tai.”

The barman, dressed in a garish uniform for the night, smiled and said, “Coming up.”

While he mixed the cocktail, Elyan, one the aerodynamics R&D experts on the team, came up to him. “Arthur,” he said, “it's such a joy to see you.”

Arthur smiled confusedly. “We saw each other yesterday, remember?”

“Yeah,” Elyan said, making a sign 'two' to the barman so he'd get a second Mai-Tai for himself. “But I wasn't sure I'd get to come tonight.”

“Why,” Arthur said with a snort, “you've suddenly been demoted and you were afraid you wouldn't be invited?”

Vivian got her cocktail and started sipping at it.

“No.” Elyan shook his head. “But Merlin's gone crazy. He's tweaking everything. He doesn't eat; he doesn't sleep. He's always on the job. And he's asked some of us to work on a few variables he wants to try. That could take days. Meaning no free time ever.”

“I didn't make him out to be like that,” Arthur said, tapping his fingers on the polished bar counter. “I thought--”

“Believe me,” said Elyan, getting his drink from the bartender, “his head is firmly on the job. He's dead set to prove he's good, in love with engines, and has a fixation for detail that made me fear I wouldn’t be able to stay on the team this year.”

Vivian perked up. “Who's in love with engines?” she asked, sucking on the straw, her fingers keeping it in place. “I love men who know their way about engines.”

“Merlin does,” said Elyan. “New engineer with the team.”

“I do too,” Arthur said, thumping his own chest. “I race cars.”

“But you don't build them,” said Vivian, wrinkling her nose.

Arthur growled. Why were people suddenly in love with engineers now? He was the one with the job that entailed risking his life at least thrice a week.

“Oh there's Merlin,” said Elyan, making Arthur's head snap towards the VIP floor entrance. “I wasn't sure he'd make it. I was convinced he'd stayed glued to those dynamometer charts of his. Instead look, lo and behold.”

Merlin was, in fact, making his way to them, raising his palm in salute. “Hi, there,” he said, falling onto the stool next to Elyan's. 

“Hi, Merlin,” Elyan said, slapping his shoulder.

“Hiya,” said Vivian, bypassing Arthur in order to slide between Merlin and Elyan, her hip canted against the counter. “I understand you're an engineer.”

Merlin's eyes flared with confusion. “Yeah, I am. Er, Elyan told you?”

“Yeah,” Vivian said. “Engineers fascinate me.”

Merlin blushed and splayed both hands on his knees, which he promptly nervously rubbed up his thighs. “Really?” 

“Yeah. A lot.”

As Merlin and Vivian started talking chassis and composites, with Merlin drawing diagrams on a napkin, Arthur felt more and more as if he was being dumped and superseded by a bashful, big- eared nerd who was admittedly passionate about his job but also too enthusiastic by far not to be obnoxious. “A Vodka,” he asked the barman, fingers threaded through his hair. He was supplied quickly and spent the following twenty minutes listening to Merlin pontificate about engineering.

True, he had a nice way of going about it, explaining difficult concepts to Vivian in the most straightforward way possible, but he was still annoying. He irritated Arthur and with reason. 

He had Arthur's girl's attention. (Well, maybe Vivian wasn't his. Didn't seem to be, leaning as she was into Merlin and making him dimple up. Oh, well, it was better this way. Racing would start next week and he'd better concentrate on nothing but the WDC title.) 

Merlin had this endearing way about him that made people think he was cute. (He was endearing looks wise, but Arthur didn't believe his naïve act, not for one minute.)

Mr Taliesin liked him. Elyan seemed to as well even though Merlin caused him to work twice as much as he did when Bedivere was on board. The team had accepted him without a glitch. (If there had been Arthur would have heard.)

Why was Arthur the only one not to like him? He couldn't be the only one level-headed enough to understand that Merlin hadn't proved himself yet. Despite his degree he couldn't have as much field experience as older men. Why did nobody see that?

Arthur finished his vodka.

“Want to dance?” Vivian asked Merlin.

A strip of red that went from cheekbones to nose coloured Merlin's face. “Me?”

Vivian nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

Merlin looked to Arthur. Arthur raised his palm and Merlin said, “Yeah, okay.”

Vivian put down her glass and took Merlin's hand, leading him to the dance floor. She moved well. Merlin didn't, but he did have a nice body, one that looked nicer still when wrapped around Vivian's. He looked wirier compared to her, broader, stronger. His arms were encasing her. His sleeves pulled up enough to show a little bit of muscle. Yet his hips were not a lot wider than hers, tapering as they did from a slightly larger torso. They made a nice couple. One Arthur wouldn't mind watching them having sex.

They'd look good, spread out on sheets, limbs tangled, Merlin's cock easing into her.

And where the hell had that come from? It couldn't be the vodka. Arthur had had one single shot and that wasn't enough to throw him for a loop. He wasn't one to fantasise about aesthetics either. So why? Maybe he was just sublimating his need for Vivian. It couldn't be Merlin.

Arthur wasn't one to be led around by his cock. He didn't approve of Merlin. Didn't trust him. That meant that Merlin was off limits, even where fantasies were concerned. 

He ordered himself another drink and watched as Vivian and Merlin spun around. Their dance wasn't provocative but it wasn't tame either, hip grinding being present and rather noticeable. 

After the second song, they stopped though. Vivian brushed her lips against Merlin. Merlin put his hands on her hips and shook his head. Vivian murmured something in his ear and then moved on to dance with another partner. Merlin trotted back to the bar, joining Arthur again.

“I don't understand why you're back,” said Arthur, stealing cashews from a bowl. “You could have got laid.”

As Arthur chomped on his cashews, Merlin's smiled, head tipped lower. “Doesn't mean I should have.”

“No man with a pulse would say no to sex,” Arthur said.

Merlin blinked, eyelashes a whirl of black. “I have a pulse,” he said, low and throaty. “I just. I had my reasons.” He dragged the cashew bowl closer but then didn't pick any. “You should be happy. She was your date.”

“She dumped me for you,” Arthur said, tilting an eyebrow. “Not much to be happy about.”

“True, she likes brains.” Merlin smiled but his smile wavered as he read Arthur's less then enthused expression. “Oh come on, I thought the man who orders others about like cattle could take a joke.”

Arthur cleared his throat, throwing his shoulder's back. “Of course I can take jokes.”

“But you think I meant it,” said Merlin, angling himself towards him. 

“No, of course, not,” Arthur said. “And even if you did, I don't care enough for it to--”

Merlin put his hand on his wrist. “I don't think you're a dumb racer though I do think you're arrogant and trying to live up to the hype.”

Arthur shook his head but had to smile. “If you're apologising, I'll warn you, you're digging yourself in deeper.”

“And now you're wilfully misunderstanding me.”

Arthur stood, leant close behind Merlin so he could say things in his ears and said, “You flatter yourself.”

“Still hanging around though,” Merlin observed with waggling eyebrows.

Arthur huffed. Merlin was right. He was paying him too much attention. Merlin was ruffling his feathers but he shouldn't preen about it. He wouldn't last long. He was so new he was sure to make a mistake, and when he did he would be out. 

“Well, have a good night then, Merlin,” Arthur whispered in his ear. And with that he was gone, headed towards the dance floor. 

He danced all night long with different partners, had a chat with a journalist from Motors & Races, and barely even took notice of Merlin, who danced some, exchanged a few words with various people, burst out laughing at a joke, thus alerting the entire roomful to his hilarity, and then went home early, though more than a little pissed.

Arthur made a point of dancing all night.

 

***** 

 

Even though he'd only had few drinks, Merlin felt the effects of his night out. They were unmistakable. His mouth tasted like a bad batch of paint remover -- he'd know because as a kid he used to stick his fingers everywhere – and his stomach felt like a balloon someone had filled with water, water that was roiling this way and that. He could barely move lest he hurl.

Being in his head wasn't that fun either. And that was because he'd left early. He dreaded to think what would have happened had he stayed till dawn.

He'd just rolled on his side hoping his body wouldn't interpret that as an invitation to rid itself of the contents of his stomach, when the phone rang.

“Hello, Merlin,” a chirpy female voice sounded in his ears, appearing even louder thanks to Merlin's hangover, “I'm Vivian from last night? You gave me your number over a Blood Shot.”

Merlin remembered Vivian – pretty, blonde, flighty, quite a head for motors – and the infamous Blood Shot. “I remember some of that.”

“Yeah, Elyan said you're a light weight.”

Merlin scratched at his nose with the end of the receiver. “I must lose all aspiration to coolness and admit that's true.”

Vivian giggled. “Oh Merlin,” she said, “you're so funny and you make me laugh.”

“I'm glad my pitiful condition is hilarious to you.” He flipped onto his bed and the move made him want to gag. He moaned, feeling rather sorry for himself. “Truly glad to be of help.”

“Don't get me wrong,” she said. “I didn't mean it like that, though you sound like you need some aspirin and a shower.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I wanted to invite you out for lunch.”

Merlin started seeing where this was going. “I’m not feeling too good.” 

Vivian chuckled. “Shouldn’t have touched that second shot.”

“Probably.”

“Please, stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell me what you think about the invite?”

Merlin hummed, drumming his fingers on his stomach. “I feel I should say I'm gay.”

“That's all right,” said Vivian, sounding indeed like she wasn't bothered at all even though Merlin thought she'd been going for a hook up. “I'd sleep with you in a heartbeat – because you're cute and for your brain – but I'm fine just taking you out for a spin.”

Merlin relaxed now that he was sure there'd be no misunderstandings. Besides Merlin was under the firm impression Vivian was more or less Arthur's girl and Merlin had promised Lancelot he would try to 'befriend' Arthur. They’d mostly got along yesterday, hadn’t they? “I still feel a bit queasy,” Merlin said, sounding less certain about refusing the invitation than before. 

“Okay, all you need to do is to be Zen about it. The mind presides over your body so if you tell your mind that you're sober you'll be sober.”

“I don't think it quite works like that but if you promise there'll be coffee I promise I'll come.”

“Great,” Vivian said, enthusiastic and bubbly, “I'll text you an address and there'll be coffee.”

There was coffee. It was excellent and black and steaming up his nose. Vivian bought him three cups and sat back to watch him imbibe them, her eyes hidden behind a pair or stylish sunglasses Merlin suspected to be designer, her smile telling him how amused she was at his antics.

“So,” she said, slowly sipping her own tea, “how did you get to be the new chief engineer at Excalibur?”

“I applied and was interviewed,” said Merlin, not wanting to sound like he was bragging. “Like most people.”

“But most people don't get hired when they're so young,” said Vivian, taking off her glasses and waving them around. “You must be special.”

“No, I just had a nice design,” said Merlin. “That's all.”

“What kind of design?” Vivian asked airily.

“Why, you a spy?” Merlin drank the last of his coffee. 

Vivian giggled. “And who would I spy for? Western?”

Merlin had been told by the highers up at Excalibur that Western was the competition. Besides, it wasn't as if different news sources didn't confirm as much. “Maybe? It seems preposterous, I know. And I'm sure you're not. Still, I can't blab.”

“Well, I'll tell you one thing,” said Vivian and suddenly her tone got no nonsense. “I hate Valiant. You'll find I used to date him and he's... a thug. A horrible person. I wouldn't want to help him.”

Merlin said, “I've never had the pleasure.”

“Call yourself lucky then,” Vivian said with a sneer of disgust. “He's not the kind of person you want to have dealings with. Arthur has a long standing feud with him.”

Merlin leant forwards. “Really? Did he tell you?”

Vivian shook her head. “He didn't need to,” she said. “Though he did call him 'that pig who doesn't rate a driving licence', but it's in every newspaper rating a sports page. I thought you'd know seeing as you're on the Excalibur team now.”

“Well, I've been with them for a month,” said Merlin, setting his last cup aside. “And with my head in my charts. I haven't had time to ask around or concern myself with personal rivalries.”

“With the Championship beginning now you will just have to,” said Vivian. She fished a magazine out of her bag and pointed at the captions. A couple (Clash of the Titans and F1 Rivalry of the Century) were sober enough though they did nothing to confuse the reader as to who was set against whom. Others were a lot more imaginative and hinted at more than feuds, implying that death threats had been hurled and so on.

“Maybe,” Merlin said, unable to hide a giggle at the headlines. “But the truth is I have a feeling I won't stay on long if Australia goes bad.”

“You fear you'll be fired?” Vivian frowned then patted his hand. “But why? You have those nice designs of yours. There's no reason for them to let you go.”

“Well, if we lose,” Merlin said, happy with Vivian's touch and the comfort it offered, “then they'll know that my car's not competitive. In which case I think I'll be kicked out.”

“Well, we'll see,” said Vivian, eventually letting go of his hand. “But I'm sure your car is brilliant and that Melbourne will prove it.”

 

****

> **Australian Grand Prix  
>  Melbourne circuit.**

The Friday practice session had just finished when Arthur drove back to the paddock. He'd spent the morning identifying hairpin turns and all other curves as well as memorising the track for the qualifying session. Now, with the real thing looming before him, choices had to be made. Choices he couldn't make alone. Choices he'd have to consult the team and most particularly both Mr Taliesin and Merlin about.

He found them both in the monitoring area of the paddock and stalked up to them. They were already having an animated discussion and Arthur had to keep a surge of annoyance at being left out in check in order to sound perfectly professional when he said, “Discussing strategy without me?”

“No,” said Mr Taliesin, looking at Arthur as though he'd grown two heads, “Merlin was merely pointing out a series of options as to how to tackle the DRS wing balance without hitting the rev limiter.”

“You're the one who can tell us how the circuit was,” Merlin said. “You're the driver. Can't do this without you.”

Arthur suspected Merlin was trying to keep Arthur out of major discussions if he could, but he didn't say that. He didn't wish to sound paranoid. “It's a fast one.”

“Yes, it's famed to be,” said Taliesin.

“Shorter top gear,” Arthur said, monosyllabic. “I'll get smoother acceleration in corners.”

“You'll be sacrificing top speed,” Merlin said, his voice toneless, matter of fact, reciting data. “Especially on the EX-26.”

“But I'll be able to use the DRS exactly how I want,” Arthur said. He knew it was a risk, but it was one he wanted to take. He felt it in his bones. This was the best strategy by far. “That's something to consider.”

“Your choice,” said Mr Taliesin, lifting his shoulders and washing his hands of it.

“You'll be slower,” Merlin said, pronouncing the words Arthur had been dreading to hear. “But I think you have a feel for the car now, so go for your idea.” 

Arthur's eyebrow pointed upwards when he said, “I'll get the pole, unless your car can't make it.”

“It can take everything,” Merlin answered with a small confident smile and a spark in his eyes.

The following day was qualifying session day. The first part of this session was all about getting the fastest time to get a good grid positioning. The slowest cars got eliminated. Arthur counted on being one of the firsts. With that in mind he completed the formation lap and took his place on the grid. 

“Good luck,” came Merlin's voice from the radio.

Arthur was now waiting for the green. “It's not about luck. It about your car and my skills.”

“It should be a match made in heaven,” Merlin said, chuckling softly.

Arthur couldn't answer; the green had flashed. He took off, concentrating on his own timing rather than the others. After some vying for top positioning, he ended up sixth. Even with his limited field of vision he could tell that's where he was at. His strategy was simple: count the cars. Take those he couldn't see into account. Never ignore the fact that something could suddenly fill his field of vision. 

Despite the slight disadvantage he was at, he wasn't nervous. The car was responding to his inputs quickly and smoothly. Everything was fine and this wasn't last year. He had this.

Valiant with his Western, on the other hand, didn't seem to trust his car to take him there. He pushed and pushed from the very beginning. 

“Don't engage,” was the order Arthur got from the paddock. 

“Don't plan to,” he said, focusing on the next curve and the next, not the overall circuit, though he had it ingrained in his memory, but just on the next moment.

Hands steady of the wheel, vision tunnelling on the track ahead, he pushed his car to the max. When he exited a corner, he used the boost button and the energy available thanks to the KERS to get a burst of speed. Now he was not only defending his position. He was improving it. Others were dropping behind: he took over Cenred King, Cador, and de Ganis.

But that meant that he still had Velany and Valiant to contend with. He needed to get at least past one of them to score a better position on the grid. He and Velany were on the same the same lap coming in, so Velany it had to be. 

One step at a time.

Making sure he was close to Velany after the corner, he stuck to him all through it. Turning into it though, the car failed to respond as well as it should have, fighting him as he tried to steer. Arthur's heartbeat accelerated and he thoughtlessly muttered, “Fucking understeer.”

“Calm down, Arthur.” It was Merlin talking, not Mr Taliesin. “Slow down into the curve.”

Arthur did; he had no choice. Merlin knew how to tame his car. By doing what Merlin said, Arthur lost on Velany. But even though he was wide on the top of the hill he gained speed when he was onto the straight. The next thing he knew, Arthur was next to Velany and then just in front of him, getting away, and gaining.

He finished behind Valiant. 

Q1 done with, Arthur steered the EX-26 to the paddock. The mechanics crowded the car, refuelling and changing the worn tyres. 

As Arthur lifted his visor, Merlin came over, saying, “We're adding ballast.” He leant over the cockpit and Arthur tilted his head up and nodded. Merlin's suggestion was the best option to counteract the understeer he'd experienced before. “Go ahead.”

Arthur saw Merlin's face scrunch up in thought. “Can you handle it though? It's going to oversteer and spin.”

“I can handle it going into a spin.”

Merlin's fingers curled around the sides of the car. He went down into a crouch so he was face to face with Arthur. “I designed it like this to have you safe.”

“I can handle it,” Arthur repeated, locking eyes with Merlin to make him see that he could do it and that he ought to be trusted with this. He didn't know why but he needed Merlin to see eye to eye with him on this. He needed Merlin to get a sense of who he was as a pilot.

The clock was ticking and Merlin hadn't come to a decision yet. They could consult Mr Taliesin but Mr Taliesin wasn't the one who had designed the car and he wasn't the one who'd have to wrestle it into behaving either.

It was all on them: Merlin and Arthur. 

Merlin clapped the side of the car. “Okay, all right.” Merlin turned to give the head mechanic an order. “Add ballast to the front end-plate and under-body. We'll see if that keeps the car's centre of gravity down.”

The head mechanic stopped checking the car and wrenched his head up. “Mid qualifying and without Mr Taliesin's go ahead?”

Merlin took a step back, gave Arthur a look.

Arthur willed him to get this done and for once Merlin seemed not only to be on the same page as him but to be willing to do as he was told. “Add ballast. My responsibility.”

Arthur smiled. “You do have some backbone.”

“More than you think,” said Merlin, hunkering down again. “Now try not to get killed while you're at it or the fault will be mine.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, in a tone he loaded with more intent because, burdened as he was with the helmet, he couldn't rely on facial expressions, “I didn't know the man who'd deny me a coffee would care.”

“I do,” said Merlin, then hastily he added. “'m not a monster.”

Merlin watched as the car was weighted as per his prescriptions. When Arthur rolled off the pit lane to get back to the grid for the second qualifying round he said into the radio, “Good luck, Arthur.”

“Why, thank you, Merlin, but a break a leg would be better.”

“Fussy,” Merlin quipped not hiding a gargling laugh.

With their previous lap times cancelled, the remaining racers had to fill the empty grid positions and fight to not be eliminated. Q3 only would decide the pole.

With the car newly weighted, Arthur had better control but less speed. That meant he could be more daring in corners and a little less so on straights. He didn't know what the other racers had done, how they'd adjusted to the Q1 session, but being unaware of the competition's strategies was part of the F1 deal.

Even so, he made a good start and kept his position throughout the opening lap. He attacked de Ganis first, locking him in a tight battle, driving side-by-side with him for most of the fourth lap, but overtook him by the next. The car responding in every way he wanted it to now that ballast had been added, he moved up and up until he finished third. It was good. Now he had a measure of the car he hadn't had before.

“Now I want you to maintain consistent pacing, Arthur,” Mr Taliesin said when Arthur made it to the paddock prior to the last phase of qualifications.

Consistent pacing was Arthur's by-word for running Q3. The pole was at stake after all. After the first round of pit stops, Valiant put him under pressure, nearly taunting him, getting so close he was almost risking an accident. Arthur let him do his thing and didn't engage although he tried to stay safe and out of the Western's range.

Arthur's first attempt at squeezing between the Mercia team car immediately in front of him and the pit-wall on the main straight was unsuccessful. He had to avoid a repeat of the same circumstances unless he wanted to shave the chassis off the car. But he managed to push through a couple of laps later, overtaking both de Ganis and Valiant. Cador's engine just stalled and that meant Arthur was opening the season with a pole. 

When Arthur got back to the paddock he was feted by everybody around. This was a marked improvement compared to last season, and though they couldn't be sure their luck would keep, Arthur could understand the team's need for celebration. He felt it too. So he smiled at each pat on the back he received and responded to every hug. 

He was surprised to find he couldn't find Merlin anywhere. He was the demonstrative one as well as half responsible for the result and yet he was nowhere to be found.

Arthur searched for him with his eyes and at last spied him perched on top of a stool, an enormous laptop perched on the counter in front of him.

For a moment Arthur experienced the urge to go talk to him and tell him that his decision had paid off but then he rethought it. What would he say anyway? He wasn't sure Merlin was here to stay and encouraging him because of one single positive outcome wouldn't be fair. If he didn't live up to expectations, he'd be going. And Arthur would be the first one to press for that.

So he kept himself to himself and let Merlin busy himself with his host of tech data.

Later that night though, Arthur found himself thinking about Merlin again. He'd been tossing and turning in his hotel bed, tired and wired both. His back ached a little from the car's insistent jostling and his thoughts were running in circles. Tomorrow the first race of the new season would take place and he kept visualising the track and accounting for variables, until he realised he needed to unwind. 

He dressed in joggers and went downstairs to the bar. He didn't mean to drink anything alcoholic simply because he couldn't, not with the race tomorrow. But he wanted to have a sip of something anyway and was reckoning a chat with the barman would help him relax. Small talk could be convenient.

While a barman was there, he also found Merlin perched on a stool by the counter, nursing a beer. 

Arthur sank into the seat next to him. “Think you can stay clear-headed tomorrow?”

“It's just a beer,” Merlin said. “I need to relax. I have a headache and this will help.”

“Headaches are what happens to geeks,” Arthur said. “You wouldn't be feeling like you do if you were the pilot. Less thinking and more action involved.” Arthur had a few symptoms that came from sitting in a tiny monocoque but he didn't comment on them.

Arthur felt Merlin's gaze on him and caught the spark of indignation in his eyes. It made him feel quite ashamed about having spat that out. Guiltily, Arthur averted his own eyes.

“I'm not competitive,” Merlin said, raking his thumb up the side of his glass. “So racing wouldn't do for me.”

“Bullshit,” said Arthur, his eyes trained on Merlin's fingers. “You're how old? 26? And have the job fifty-somethings think of as the apex of their careers. I think it takes a lot of competitiveness to get there.”

“Maybe my kind is not the same as yours, then,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I don't need to show off to crowds.”

“But you are,” said Arthur, pointing to the television set hanging from a wall set in the bar alcove. The results of today’s qualifying session were being displayed. “There's a constructors championship too. And what people are tuning in to watch is...”

“You prancing on the circuit,” said Merlin with a smile that was softer than his words. 

“No, they're watching your car, the feats of engineering it's capable of.”

Merlin nodded imperceptibly. “Partly,” he said. “But it's you behind the wheel. It's you making those feats possible. That's why you have fans and the engineering team doesn't.”

Arthur shook his head. “Not true.”

“Well, we're the self-effacing bit of F1,” Merlin said, sniggering. “You know, the unsung heroes.”

“I think you need an adrenalin rush,” said Arthur, less boldly than he'd set out to do. “That way you'd be more relaxed and less jealous of my having fans.”

Merlin tossed his head back and laughed. “Ha, me jealous.”

“Adrenalin starved,” Arthur said, bumping shoulders with Merlin.

“Adrenalin junkie.” Merlin rose. leaving his half full beer glass to stand on the counter. “See you tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be getting your adrenalin fill then. And a dose of adoring fans.”

Arthur smiled at the counter, not turning around to look at Merlin but feeling his breath on his neck all the same. “Tell yourself that bravely racing like I do is the reason people like me.”

“They certainly don't because of your winning personality.” The words tickled at Arthur's nape. He could smell barley on the air. “Night, Arthur.”

The next day Arthur woke early, primed for the race. He didn't know what had changed overnight but the stress he'd felt on the Saturday had gone by Sunday, as had his lower back pain. He'd even been able to go out for an early jog that had loosened all remaining stiffness in his limbs. And now he felt fantastic.

Even the weather had improved. The race started in dry and warm conditions, perfect for medium tyres, and also for good visibility. 

Arthur felt confident this was his race. 

Going into it, the team had concurred on a new strategy: stopping for only one single pit stop. With the car newly ballasted, Arthur had better control in the curves but less overall. Also he was losing speed in order not to get more understeer than necessary. If he wanted to beat Valiant he had to rely on a single pit stop to shorten lap times.

Now it was starting time.

When the red lights went out, Arthur went straight across to get ahead of Valiant, who'd placed right after him yesterday, nearly bumping into him. They both held station, vying for an in to the lead. 

Further back Arthur could see two other cars tangle together, one them being Lancelot's. He couldn't slow down to try and make out more but now there was a chance he was the only Excalibur team member stil in the race. This made him doubly motivated to do well.

A moment later Arthur had confirmation of what had happened over the radio. “Lancelot is out of the race.”

“Got it,” Arthur said. “Still in and meaning to win.”

To make it true he stuck to team's strategy. So as not to burn too much fuel in the first part of the race Arthur let himself fall behind. He could imagine Valiant's smug face at the thought, but he told himself that Valiant's reaction didn't matter. What mattered was the strategy. 

Less fuel meant more speed; he just needed to ride that razor's edge where he had just enough to make it, to handle the car so that it would perform its best while at its lightest fuel-wise.

He clung to the wheel, the engine roaring in his ears. A look in the mirror told him this was the moment to put the car to the test. This was the moment to rise from the ashes of last year.

Valiant had a clear five over him but this meant little. With tens laps to go Arthur pushed, gaining a second on de Ganis and another on his rival, Garcia. 

By keeping this rhythm, Arthur was rounding out the top five, but he wanted more. He pinballed through a straight and on to engage a rival car. The gap between them was minimal, no more than a second. This was the right time to fight for the win. 

Being in the prescribed zone, he could use the DRS now, so he activated the adjustable flap on the rear wing of the car. The device reduced drag, allowing a pursuing car to hit higher speeds and offering a greater chance of overtaking the vehicle ahead.

He looked to his right and at the gap between himself and the other Western car in third position. At first the gap stayed especially across the line and through corners. But Arthur persevered, played a dangerous game and wove through. 

He overtook two cars, poking next to Valiant. Valiant didn't give up on finishing first, attempting to nose back under. Arthur knew they had only two more laps so he swerved and veered, cutting Valiant off. 

That worked. Arthur smiled when he realised that he had a clear gap. And then the chequered flag came down. Arthur had won. He lifted his fist in exultation; the crowd lifting flags to celebrate.

The elation didn't settle in until he'd driven the car back to the box. He met Merlin on his way to the podium. “So you win,” said Merlin. “Congrats.”

That was when the truth of the win really sank in for him, stressed for him by Merlin's quirked lips and bright eyes. 

He squared his shoulders out proudly. He gave Merlin a clap on the shoulder that ended with him nearly overbalancing into the man because Valiant, on his way to take second place, barrelled right into him. “Clear the way, Pendragon!”

Arthur found himself plastered to Merlin, chest to chest, Merlin's team cap pushing against his forehead, his breath playing on Arthur's throat.

Feeling like he'd been burnt, the adrenalin high and the proximity making the blood rush through his veins, he husked out, “So, you'll probably get to stay.”

Merlin's eyes had a happy glow about them. “Told you the EX-26 was good.”

“Now don't brag, Merlin,” Arthur said, taking that step back that Valiant's absence allowed. “Without me your car would have sat in the box.”

Arthur could see that Merlin was about to reply and, wanting to keep him on his toes, he left to accept his trophy.

He showered the crowd in champagne.

****

> ****
> 
> **The new EX-26 is solid.**
> 
> Leafield, Oxford, (UK): Over the last two Grand Prix, Excalibur has unveiled the car that it hopes will end a three-year run of bad luck for the motoring team. 
> 
> The new car features a brand new body, new barge board and tail if compared to last year's EX-26. After an amazing start that has seen Excalibur on the podium three times, it will be this single-seater's turn to compete for the rest of this year's F1 championship. 
> 
> "This is a new beginning for us, a new beginning that will cement effort towards one goal: to add to our wonderful history," Excalibur team principal Matthew Taliesin said Thursday, otherwise singing the praise of new team designer Merlin Emrys, who replaces Marcus Bedivere at the helm of the Design team. 
> 
> Excalibur last won the constructors' title in 2009 with Tristan Cornwall and Amir Zohar behind the wheel while Michel Balan won the team's last drivers' title in 2008. 
> 
> Over its long history Excalibur has accumulated a record 17 constructors titles but those have rarefied in the past few years due to an overly prudent innovation policy. 
> 
> This time around things have been shaken up. The appearance of Emrys, fresh from a Southampton MSc, has seen to that. 
> 
> With Pendragon vying for the driver's championship – after losing it to Valiant of Western last year -- the team seems to be set for great things. Although a look at Pendragon's record will tell you that since he left his father's team he's never taken home the drivers' tittle, Excalibur and its head driver seem to be set for glory this year. 
> 
> This season continues with the UBS Chinese Grand Prix on 14. April. 

Arthur pushed the magazine aside and looked up. With all further testing having concluded, no one was in the office at Leafield apart from Arthur, who was unwinding, and Merlin who was still blinking at his laptop downstairs.

Arthur could see him from where he was, sitting at a table on the mezzanine floor, while Merlin had the lower ground one to himself.

Even though the team had placed on the podium for the last three races, (with a first, third and second place), Merlin still spent most of his nights glued to a screen or flitting around the car, asking one of the newest mechanics, Elena, whom Merlin had requested specifically, to test this or that component. She was perennially showing him the graphics relating to their performance.

Elena was the one who usually stayed late with him for just that purpose but tonight she wasn't and Merlin was sitting alone, squinting at screens, reams of papers featuring complex diagrams spread out on his table. 

Arthur had always felt that Merlin's duty was to work hard. It was just right that he should and something that Arthur ought to encourage on behalf of the team. But now Merlin was clearly overworking himself. His eyes were so bloodshot they looked zombie-like even from the floor above and his entire body was folding in on itself and slumping forwards.

Was Merlin still afraid he'd be given the sack? With their three podiums that seemed unlikely now. Unless he fucked up mid-season. But the same could be said of Arthur. He could fuck up mid season too and nobody'd blame him if he did. The papers would write about how he'd lost his touch since he'd left his father's team, how he was getting older, but Mr Taliesin wouldn't lay him off. Not until Arthur retired on his own.

The same should be expected of Merlin at this point.

Arthur stretched and got up, slowly descending the stairs and walking over to the table Merlin had claimed. Arthur placed both hands on it and leant against it. “Are you banking on haunting this place?”

Merlin looked up, mouth dropping open as he took in Arthur. “What?”

“You've been here how long?” Arthur asked, looking at the clock hanging back in the hall behind Merlin. “Twelve hours? I thought you were about to die here – thirst and hunger likely causes – and haunt the premises.”

“Ha, ha,” said Merlin, looking back at his screen. “Very funny.”

“No, seriously, how long have you been here?”

Merlin squinted at his laptop's sidebar clock. “Er, twelve hours.”

Arthur shook his head, huffing a laugh. “And here I thought I was exaggerating.”

Merlin bit his lip. “And what's it to you?”

“Oh come on,” said Arthur, “don't be like that.” Arthur knew he'd been less than cordial to Merlin on occasion. And that he'd started out not trusting him with the car or his life. But Merlin hadn't done too bad a job with the 26 and Arthur had only been gently teasing him lately. “I meant to be a good boy and drive you home.”

“Won't be necessary,” said Merlin, tapping at his screen. “I was counting on working a couple of hours more.”

“What! You'd only be done by... midnight!” Arthur grabbed Merlin's laptop and shut the lid.

Merlin stood up and leant over, a tableful between them, to make a grab for the object. “That's my data you're tampering with.”

“The laptop's only on stand-by. Your data's safe,” said Arthur, hugging Merlin's rather costly laptop to himself. “You can save it later. What you're endangering now is your health. Look, your eyes are red. Like really blood injected. You look like a Dracula film outcast. Go home.”

“Dracula hasn't got red eyes.”

“Whatever,” said Arthur, “point still stands. I doubt you're in a state to crunch numbers.”

“I can crunch numbers in my sleep.”

“Oh, so that's what you were doing just now then.”

The line of his shoulders curving, Merlin burst out laughing, his eyes becoming smaller and getting surrounded by little crow feet. “Okay, all right. Maybe you're right. I should go home.”

Arthur put down the laptop and fished for his car keys and jingled them before Merlin's nose. “Come on. You really want to ride in my car.”

Merlin chuckled. “What, you have one of those cars that are actually F1 cars passed off as street cars?”

“Wait and see, Merlin. Wait and see.”

Merlin's face when Arthur's Beetle was revealed was something Arthur would have loved to take a snapshot of and show everyone. Merlin's mouth fell open and his eyes lightened up and got bigger. They were so round Arthur wanted to laugh.

He placed a hand on the roof of his car, letting the metal chill his palm. “Come on, climb in.”

Merlin shook his head but did follow him inside, placing his laptop case at his feet on the mat.

“So, where do you live?” Arthur asked, key in the ignition. 

Merlin gave him an address Arthur's sat nav confirmed as being located in the outskirts of Oxford. It was going to be a good hour's drive. At first Merlin tried to talk. Since they weren't friends and weren't close, his conversation stuck to small talk, but as the clock ticked on it slowly wound down. When after a couple of minutes of silence Arthur turned his head to look at him he found that Merlin had fallen asleep. 

Arthur let him snore on until he had to pull up. Merlin startled, the heel of his hand going to his forehead. “Wha, what?”

“Thanks for the inspiring conversation,” Arthur said. “My ears are hurting.”

“Idiot,” Merlin said, “You were driving so slow.”

“What are you on about?” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “You expect me to drive as if I was on a circuit?”

Merlin dimpled and tapped his mouth. “Lemme think... Mmmm, no. I'd rather live. But it was lulling.”

“Lulling?” Arthur repeated, snorting. “That's the worst insult you could hurl a racer.”

“Hardly.”

“So my driving bores you?”

Merlin leant his head back against the headrest, doing a little shake and fixing his eyes on the roof. “Maybe it's your personality you have thank for my snooze attacks.”

“There's nothing wrong with my personality!” Arthur said in a high pitch that wasn't really angry. He'd have listed the reasons why there wasn't anything amiss with it – he thought he was quite a nice person – if Merlin hadn't interrupted him by saying, “You realise this is not my street, do you?”

Arthur tapped his sat nav screen. “This says it is.”

“And the man who's supposed to live there says it isn't,” Merlin said.

“It's- it's--” Arthur pushed buttons and checked the data he'd entered. “Impossible.”

Merlin burst out laughing. “I'll have to build you a new sat nav. One that works.”

“You can do that?”

Merlin waved his hands at his face. “Hello, you drive the thingy I designed, so I guess, yeah?”

It was Arthur's turn to laugh.

“Okay, all right, care to direct me the old-fashioned way?”

They were still laughing under their breath by the time they got to Merlin's.

 

***** 

 

Over the following four weeks Excalibur ran two more races and accumulated more points. In Spain Arthur finished second. Monaco granted him the first step on the podium. Even though he had to be in the second pole for the head start, right behind De Ganis and Valiant, in the first pole, Arthur managed to get to the front right from the start. He controlled the whole 50 laps of the championship. His rivals couldn't catch up with him.

Merlin watched the whole race unfold from the boxes; headphones covering his ears, eyes glued to the monitors hanging above his head.

Merlin had never been a formula 1 junkie. Not even a formula 1 aficionado. He loved engines. He loved the way they worked. He loved disassembling them, devising ways to make them work to the best of their potential. But he'd never been into sports, unless you counted watching the Vuelta and the Tour the France and going for a bit of a bike ride around the country as being into sports.

He'd never tuned in at unholy hours just to see who'd won an F1 race. He'd never had posters of his sports heroes pinned to his wall. He'd never had enough passion for that. Sure, his studies had brought him here, but it wasn't for the races themselves. 

Formula 1 was simply top of the line when it came to engineering. The money put into it allowed for research, innovation, experimentation. The feats that were possible in the F1 world were merely a dream in other civil engineering fields. And that was why Merlin was here. His true heroes were the designers and mechanics who constructed the prototypes and allowed them to work.

But lately things had changed. He'd started feeling adrenalin surge through him whenever he watched Arthur – and Lancelot, too – compete. He bit his nails. Supported his team and waved flags around. 

Today he was jumping up and down, hugging Elena and lifting her up in triumph, as he watched Arthur take the trophy and get the paddock girls' kisses. He laughed when Valiant, relegated to third place today, cursed and elbowed Arthur, his pout caught on camera forever.

“He's a sore loser,” said Elyan, clapping abundantly. “Someone should tell him he looks ridiculous.”

Merlin put Elena down but she wouldn't let go, mussing up his hair. “I just think he's so funny. Looks like a toddler who lost his toy.”

“It's all the team that's like that,” said Elena, slinging an arm across Merlin's shoulders. “One of their mechanics snubbed me!”

“Well, they're idiots,” Merlin said. “They won last year. Why can't they take us winning this year?”

“Do I detect some budding team spirit?” joked Elyan while Elena said, “Shut up. He's always been a supporter.”

Merlin shrugged and said. “Valiant is a dick, is all.”

Merlin was confirmed in his opinion when later that afternoon he took in one of Valiant's post race interviews a Monaco TV station was airing. 

Merlin was having a drink at the hotel terrace bar and, when he heard Valiant's words, he almost spit out half his beer.

“Last year was the best year of my career,” Valiant was saying, chest puffed out as he spat words into his microphone. “I was very happy with my performance, but I think this year will be better.”

“How do you feel about today's race and Excalibur's win?” a journalist asked, out of shot.

Valiant laughed, spittle flying. “Pendragon was good for a second place driver.”

Merlin shook his head at the TV. “The wanker.”

The person sitting next to him at the bar said, “No, he's not. He's giving attitude but he's right.”

Merlin turned around, a muscle along his jaw ticking. “Pardon?”

“I mean,” the man said, pushing his drink aside and gesticulating, “that Pendragon fella hasn't won a World Championship in years. He's done.”

“And yet he's the one who's won today,” Merlin said, pointing at the race footage that was being shown. “I'd say he isn't a second place driver.”

“Nah,” the bar patron said, waving a hand in denial. “He's got a faster car because there's some sort of genius on the team now. That's why he won. But without mechanics Valiant's the better racer.”

Merlin swivelled on his stool and gave a big breath. “Arthur Pendragon is the best.”

The bar patron scoffed. “Please that's layman fantalk.”

Merlin's lips tilted upwards. “Layman?”

“Yeah,” said the bar patron. “It's like when you support a loser football team because it's the one from your home town but you know, it's not an opinion based on facts.”

“Well, I do know a thing or two about the Excalibur car,” Merlin found himself blabbing out. His job wasn't a secret but he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

“Me too.” The bar patron gave a look at the TV. On screen a reporter was giving stats about both the EX 26 and the Western 306 model. “Maybe you read some info on a motoring magazine or maybe you fancy Pendragon, but I'm telling you, he isn't that great of a pilot. Not to the levels of King Fisher, for example.”

Merlin said, “I have reason to think he's quite good because I designed the EX and know that without him, the car alone wouldn't be getting the team all those poles and trophies. He's a champion.”

The man in front of Merlin spluttered, saying, “You, you work for-- You're--”

A hand landed on Merlin's shoulder. “I didn't know you thought that well of me, Merlin.”

Merlin turned around. Sure enough, Arthur was there. He was wearing capris and a tee, eyes shielded by sunglasses, even though it was only April and the sun wasn't shining. “I-- I was just--”

Merlin was spared from embarrassing himself. The bar patron goggled at Arthur and said, “Did you overhear? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say you weren't an ace driver just that contextually speaking--”

Arthur spread his hands out to stop him. “No, no. I got it. I'm sure that based on your experience you're right.“ He clucked his tongue. “Come on, Merlin, let's go for a swim. That pool is waiting for no one.”

They ambled back over to the terrace overlooking the pool, where Merlin stopped in his tracks. “Thank you for extricating me. That guy was appalling. Thought he knew everything. I think I'll go back to my room now.”

Merlin was thinking of how to avoid the annoying bar patron, planning a circuitous route around the lifts well, when Arthur said, “Oh come on, Merlin. I wasn't just playing good Samaritan. I meant to have a swim. I thought you'd be happy to tag along.” Arthur scanned the pool area and Merlin couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling.

“It's April,” Merlin said, because it was and he couldn't think of anything better to say. “Sun still hiding somewhere behind those big clouds.” 

Arthur chuckled. “Come on, Merlin, live a little. Go change and come down.”

“You want me to wear trunks when it's 12° degrees?” Merlin could feel the wind hitting his skin; he didn't want to know how it would feel if he shed his jeans and jumper. 

“Yeah, Merlin, I do. Go to your room and change.”

Merlin frowned. “I'm sorry but I don't even have swimming trunks. I thought this was a job; I didn't exactly pack holiday stuff.”

“Come with me up to mine,” Arthur said, giving him a once over that ended with a bit of a smirk. “You can borrow one from me. I think we can find a pair that'll fit you.”

Merlin afforded Arthur's hips a look, was promptly attacked by less than chaste thoughts (Arthur was hot, after all) and said, “You actually own a pair of trunks that would fit me and not fall off my hips, leaving me naked for all of Monte Carlo to see?” 

“Yes, I do,” Arthur said, pushing his sunglasses down his nose with the tip of his finger. “Though that wouldn't be too bad in my books, but since I'm a gentleman I'll spare your sensibilities...”

“Hardly.”

Arthur pushed Merlin back towards the lobby and to the lift. “I get it, Merlin, you're a bashful flower.”

Merlin snorted. “Please, that's not true.”

Arthur basically shoved Merlin into the lift and said, “True enough.”

Arthur's room was larger, looked like a Versailles salon, and had a better view than Merlin's, but that made sense because Arthur was their pole racer, their star. Merlin had no complaint since he was treated pretty well himself. He'd never been better off in his life. Nevertheless he didn't hide a snigger or – two – at the preferential treatment Arthur was getting.

“What?” said Arthur, already rooting into his wardrobe. “What are you making that face for?”

“Nothing,” said Merlin, grabbing the pair of trunks Arthur had tossed him. “Just noticing the VIP treatment.”

Arthur folded his arms and laughed through his nose.

Merlin stared at him till Arthur tipped his eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Aren't you changing?”

“You're blocking the way to the bathroom,” Merlin pointed out with a head tilt aimed at the door of said room.

Arthur's eyebrow stayed put.

Oh, it was like that then. Without hesitation (more or less) Merlin yanked his jumper up and off, and kicked off his trainers and jeans. The socks went with them. Thought catching up with him, his hands lingered at his waist for a moment or two, but then he realised that not doing it would be the equivalent of admitting Arthur was right in deeming Merlin a blushing flower. He pushed down his underwear.

He stepped out of his boxers slowly and leisurely, just to make a point. Even if he knew that Arthur's eyes were glued to his groin – and that was a thing that just happened when nudity was involved – Merlin took his time pulling up his borrowed trunks. He acted as though he wasn't blushing. Or as if his cock wasn't... tightening. He was very blasé about it even though he felt the heat in his face all right.

He acted as if this was the best idea ever, if only because of Arthur's clear discomfiture: his slightly parted mouth and catching flies expression. This was a win for Merlin. He didn't know what game he was playing and what he'd won, but it felt good. 

“Shall we?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at the window overlooking the pool.

Arthur startled but nodded quickly. They were only delayed by Merlin's mobile buzzing with a text from Vivian.

_congrats on victory. when next in town and i know u're gonna b cause silverstone, we shld meet up. xo._

Merlin typed a quick answer _deal_

“What are you smiling at?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding a little snappish. “Girlfriend's text?”

Merlin hooked his mobile to its charger and left it on Arthur's hotel room desk, before making for the door. “If you're insinuating I'm smiling because I got a sext from a girl you would be wrong on two counts. One because I'm gay and two because I was texting your girlfriend.”

Arthur made a surprised face that was so funny Merlin nearly needed to hold his sides to stop laughing. “Who?”

“Vivian.”

Arthur's voice went into high-pitched whine territory. “I'll have you know that she never was. She dumped me for you.”

“Not really though,” Merlin said, finding Arthur's indignation hilarious. “Since she's not getting any from me.”

“I don't understand.”

“What?” Merlin asked turning around and leaning against the door so Arthur couldn't exit stage left and find salvation in the pool. “It doesn't compute that a girl would give up sex with you in favour of no sex at all, champ?”

“I-- I--” Arthur said. “I thought she was going for something.”

Merlin lowered his head while he kept shaking it. “Not that, Arthur, not that.”

Arthur stammered something about 'not getting it'.

“Don't worry, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Maybe you'll attract some pool side lounger with your VIP status.”

Arthur recovered his flair of sarcasm too quickly. “Yeah, that was most certainly what I was banking on when I invited you out for a swim,” he said. He eyed the door behind Merlin. “Now will you?”

Merlin opened the door with a flourish. Arthur led the way to the pool.

When Merlin tried the pool by submerging his foot, he found that Arthur's idea was really a bad one. “Shit, it's cold. I was right. It's not the season for this. We should have gone swimming when we were in Australia.”

Arthur was standing behind him by the side of the pool. “Really, Merlin,” he said in a crowing tone Merlin didn't trust a little bit. “How obvious.”

“I told you it was too early to go bathing in Europe.” Merlin glanced up at the overcast sky. And that was most of what he saw when Arthur pushed him over the pool's edge so that Merlin ended up arse first in the water, having to kick to break the surface. He cursed Arthur out loud when he did.

Except he didn't see him poolside. Merlin looked around. They were the only bathers in. No one had tried actually taking a plunge in this weather. Merlin glanced downwards and then he saw a flash under water.

A few seconds before someone, someone who could only be Arthur, grabbed him by the hips and pulled down his trunks.

“Arthur,” Merlin shouted. “We're in bloody public!”

Arthur re-emerged, eyes half closed, water cascading down his torso and neck, hair plastered across his forehead. He breathed out through a pursed mouth, forked his hair back, and dangled Merlin's stolen trunks before his nose.

Arthur stepped closer so there was only an inch or so between them. “Then come and get your trunks.” He said that before he dove again, shoulders working, arms straight so he could plough water.

“Wanker,” Merlin called after him, doubting Arthur would hear him with all the water trickling in his ears. There was nothing but one thing to do, go in pursuit.

Merlin dove after him. 

 

**** 

 

Silverstone was a particularly flat circuit made up of a number of long straights linked one to the other by fast, open corners. As a circuit, Silverstone had the most complex curves of any racing track Arthur had ever run. It was a mixed bag of high and low speed corners: it also had some long straights. Every driver worth their salt knew that overtaking there was difficult, but not impossible. If you knew how to work your car and the circuit, you could do it. This made the track physically demanding but Arthur loved it like no other.

And not just because it was home turf and he liked winning on home turf. But because he liked the challenge. However, the nature of the beast required a lot of pre-emptive adjustments. They had to adapt the car to the track and make sure they made the choices that would suit it the most to it.

A week and a few days short of Silverstone, Arthur was testing new car configs and rigging, doing laps to test the outcomes. This was his fifth lap today, checking on the fifth type of set up. He was barrelling down a straight when Mr Taliesin's voice came over the radio, “Arthur the track is cold. It's affecting the grip of tyres too much for us to get a decent idea of how the new tyres will perform. Come back to the box, please. There's something I have to tell you anyway.”

“Got it,” said Arthur, wondering what it was that Taliesin wanted to tell him.

He left the car with the team of mechanics and walked into the bay where Mr Taliesin was waiting for him together with Howard Pellinore, their sponsorship manager. Pellinore was the man who organised sponsor weekends, made sure to ratchet up numbers of interested parties to take part in them, and made sure that all requirements were met by both the team and the sponsors.

His underlings were the ones who handled day to day publicity, made certain sure that paddock passes were distributed to entice more people into the sponsor game and triple checked that all the sponsors' logos were put out for all the world to see.

Pellinore being there, meant that there'd be something Arthur was required to do publicity wise. That was the only part of his contract that he truly, truly loathed. Being asked to smile on cue, do ads and pose for photos equalled hell for him. He didn't like it and often felt like a clown when he was paraded around that way.

Yet contract obligations were contract obligations. “Ha, Arthur, there you are. Mr Pellinore has something to say to you.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Pellinore. “I do. Though, first of all let me tell you that I'm proud of yours and the team's achievements so far.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur, suspecting a but was coming.

“The publicity's team is overjoyed to be working at promoting your successes,” said Pellinore. “We only wish we could do it more intensively right about now.”

And there it was, the but Arthur had been waiting for. “And we're not being intense enough?”

Pellinore smiled affably. “Seeing as we're winning, no, not nearly. Look at what Team Western is doing, getting more and more sponsors, and putting Valiant out there more.”

Arthur sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Only go on a dinner with a representative from Energy Buzz,” said Mr Pellinore, putting a friendly hand on Arthur's shoulder. “So we can close a business deal with him.”

Arthur could see what they wanted from him. “You want me to play nice?”

“I want you to be charming, Arthur,” said Pellinore, squeezing Arthur's shoulder before letting go. “Something you can easily be.”

Arthur looked to the bay area exit door as a source of freedom but knew he couldn't back off. “All right,” he said, sounding exactly like he felt: not eager. “When do you need me?”

“Tonight,” said Mr Pellinore, “I would have gone myself but I'm sure the Energy Buzz delegate doesn't want to deal with a PR person but with the man who'll end up being the face of their product.”

“Tonight?” said Arthur, who was already saying good bye to his dreams of a quiet evening at home. This was one of those times when he actually could just drive back home instead of to a hotel or the motor home. He missed having some down time and regretted the loss of his privacy already. “Isn't that short notice?”

Mr Pellinore said, “I'm sure you understand.” Then getting into full-fledged business mode, Mr Taliesin added, “You have a table booked at Corrigan's. Be there by eight o' clock.” Mr Taliesin was noddling idly at Mr Pellinore, who finished by saying, “And bring Emrys with you. He's a whiz kid and whiz kids are in somehow.”

Arthur swallowed. “Merlin?”

“Are you and Emrys getting along now, Arthur?” Mr Pellinore asked even though Mr Taliesin was making signs meaning it was better not to enquire.

“Why? Arthur asked, not addressing the question directly.

Mr Pellinore had a rather serious look on his face. “Well, we heard rumours about you asking he be fired.”

“Only if we didn't win,” said Arthur, then rethinking it he added, “But not like that.”

Mr Pellinore raised a lone eyebrow. 

“I mean,” Arthur rephrased. “Merlin is okay. He's a cool engineer. He's cool.” The truth was that Merlin and he might have started things on the wrong foot but Merlin wasn't that bad. Antagonising him was still fun but there was little bite behind the barbs he threw at Merlin now. And the banter they did trade, well, that was all in good fun. Arthur didn't indulge in it deliberately. He just picked at Merlin because teasing Merlin was entertaining and it made him want to preen a bit. It made him smile and it was an exhilarating exercise. 

“If you say so,” said Mr Pellinore. “I hope any remaining animosity can be kept under lock and key. We wouldn't want it aired before the sponsors.”

“There's none,” said Arthur, looking at the engineers bay where Merlin was tinkering with a screwdriver he most certainly (with all the technology he could command) didn't need. “Actually, I'll go tell him about the change of plans right now.” He smiled a 32 teeth smile just in case a normal one wasn't convincing enough, then bounded over to Merlin.

Merlin was at his station, tinkering with a square box faced with a screen similar to a tablet's. 

“Hi,” Arthur said, knowing he was startling Merlin since Merlin had been so caught up with his trafficking that he hadn't noticed Arthur.

Merlin jumped up, screwdriver flying out of his hands and landing somewhere behind him. “What a dick,” he said, but he was smiling so Arthur didn't think Merlin was planning his death. If anything, the smile was welcoming and pleasant. Arthur loved having it directed at him. Merlin beamed at everybody but never at Arthur. And that had been off-putting. Now, though, he was doing it and Arthur was the recipient. That made Arthur feel as though everything was right with the world.

Instead of telling Merlin about their date tonight, Arthur said, “What are you doing there?”

Merlin looked at the object he'd been trafficking with. “This is your new sat nav. A Merlin model, mind you, not one of those things you buy from Amazon.”

Arthur burst out laughing. “You still think I have no sense of direction?”

“Hey, you were the one who got lost in Oxfordshire,” said Merlin with a toothy, knowing grin. “Think of it as a custom present.”

“But I--” Arthur said, torn between feeling indignation at Merlin's estimation of his orientation skills and feeling pleased and happy he'd got a present crafted for him. 

“Take it, Arthur.” Merlin extended the object to him.

Arthur stuck his chest out. “Okay, but then you'll have to program in the address of Corrigan's. Because we're going there tonight to court a sponsor person.”

Merlin's smile fell. “What, who, why?”

“Sponsors,” said Arthur, “the people who provide financial backing so that more research can be done and you can devise more perfect engines. We've got to play nice.”

“Nice?” Merlin said in a questioning tone. “I'm not sure I can 'play' nice.”

Arthur hooked his hand around Merlin's nape and pulled him closer. “Just do as I do.”

Merlin batted his eye-lashes. “But you're not nice.”

“Idiot.”

They both drove back home because they needed to shower and change. Arthur smelled like petrol and Merlin looked the worse for wear and needed some grooming. They agreed on meeting at the hotel that housed the ritzy restaurant a few minutes prior their scheduled meeting with their prospective sponsor.

When later that night Arthur saw Merlin in the hotel lobby he had to do double take, almost not recognising Merlin in his formal suit. Merlin never wore suits. He was perpetually wearing jeans and T-shirts. But tonight he'd gone for a perfectly pressed grey ensemble that made him look really good. 

Tall and slim, broad-shouldered. The works. And the good thing about it was that Merlin was unconscious of just how appealing he was. Most people who could clean up that nice would be self conscious about it. Would know and act accordingly. There was an innocence to Merlin that was refreshing and made him look even more stunning instead. The thought slammed into Arthur like a sledge hammer, feasting on his higher brain functions.

His brain cells were so fried that he didn't realise Merlin was making his way towards him until he greeted Arthur. “Hi,” he said, “you made it. I have to suppose my new sat nav worked then.”

Arthur's gaze made a pass from the top of Merlin's head down to his shiny leather loafers. “Hello, Merlin, and, yes, thank you, I made it here just fine and without any external sat nav support.” 

“And here I thought I'd saved the day,” said Merlin, cocking his head at the dining hall. “Shall we?”

Arthur made a sign to indicate that Merlin should go first. Arthur wasn't about to pass on the opportunity of checking Merlin out a bit and this seemed to be like a prime one. Merlin's arse looked nice in tailored trousers.

His ogling couldn't last indefinitely though, and he entered the restaurant. Corrigan's was your typical high end hotel dining place, its low lit dining room decorated with hunting and fishing motifs. 

They found their sponsor already sitting at a table, reading the menu. He was dressed more casually than either Merlin or Arthur and was wearing his hair long and a little wild. His scruffy beard looked a little unkempt. Despite that Arthur would still call the man somewhat handsome. 

When he saw them, the man rose and said, “Arthur Pendragon, the man whose face will sell more energy drinks than ever before and...” He gave Merlin a once over that was pretty piercing. “His companion. You two make a lovely couple, you know.” 

Merlin flailed his hands about sheepishly. “No actually... We're not. A couple. I mean...” Merlin had nearly run out of breath. "I'm Excalibur's new CD.”

Their sponsor leered. “Oh, well, I was told I'd get to meet the new CD but I wouldn't have guessed he'd be so young and handsome.” Their sponsor kept his gaze steadily locked on Merlin. “Well, good for me. I'm Gwaine Jones, head of contracts at Energy Buzz.” He shook Merlin's hand and forgot to do the same by Arthur.

“I thought this was supposed to be a business meeting,” Arthur said, pointing out what he thought to be the obvious: Jones was making eyes at Merlin and that was so unprofessional Arthur couldn't even wrap his mind around it. It was obnoxious and low and disrespectful to Merlin, who was here in a business capacity.

Seeing the look of thunder on Arthur's face steered the conversation back to the dinner. “Well, let's order and discuss our idea then.”

They had their own private butler, who helped them place their orders, and were served wine by an expert waiter who was aware of every wine distilled on the planet. Over their food Gwaine started talking shop, bloody finally. They discussed the contract, what would be required of Arthur, and the impact that Arthur winning would have on Energy Buzz sales.

“He's poised to,” said Merlin, talking about Arthur's chances. Arthur wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying or was simply toeing the company line. Arthur really hoped it was the former. “Arthur's been the best so far.”

Gwaine smirked at Arthur. “If he can secure the WDC title then Energy Buzz would be doubly overjoyed.”

“He can,” said Merlin confidently. “He will.”

Gwaine weighed Arthur with his eyes. “Hey, closing this contract would be in my best interests too, especially if Pendragon here dragged Valiant, who's about to close a multi-million deal with a rival of ours, in the dirt.”

Arthur felt very much like this conversation was taking place over his head. He scowled.

“He will win.” Merlin winked at Arthur, then noticing Arthur was put out, he added, “Won't you?”

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. “I'll rip Valiant to shreds.”

“Well, I'd only be glad if his contract fell through,” said Gwaine. “His prospective sponsor would have to find a new suitable candidate and that would take time. That means less publicity for them. My boss would be very happy.”

“We should always try to be happy, shouldn't we?” Merlin joked.

Gwaine said, “Mind being happy with me?”

And Arthur couldn't stop himself from dragging his chair closer to Merlin's and saying, “God, that's one hell of a one track mind!”

Gwaine, who had gone for a sip of his Chablis, spluttered. Errant stains covered his tie. He laughed when he noticed, put his glass down and said, “Heading for the toilets to fix this. You two sort yourselves and your relationship out. If you'll excuse me.” Before going though he gave Arthur a stare Arthur was sure meant something and Merlin a wink.

Merlin's head snapped to Arthur. “What the fuck are you doing? The man's going to broker our deal with Fizzy Buzz.”

“Energy Buzz,” Arthur corrected. He liked to be precise. 

“Whatever,” Merlin said, “we're here to close a contract and you're antagonising the man!”

Arthur scratched at a little stain lying at the bottom of his tie. “He was flirting with you. That's out of line.”

“Oh come on, Arthur,” Merlin said. “It's innocuous. He doesn't really mean it in an Indecent Proposal kind of way. People flirt with people.”

“You never flirt with me,” Arthur said. That stain seemed to be gone now that Arthur had picked at it with his nail.

“That's because we work together and you have enough of that from your adoring fans and why would you even want me to?” Merlin's voice was climbing. “To flatter your ego a bit more?”

Arthur waved his hand in the general direction of the loo. “You were flattering his.”

“That actually doesn't deserve a response, Arthur,” Merlin said, shaking his head though he was wearing a patient smile.

Arthur was about to retort (though he had no argument that made sense) when Gwaine came back and nipped any retort in the bud.

“So, where were we?” he said, taking to his chair again. “Signing you and Excalibur on, I believe.”

After dessert Arthur signed on the dotted line. Though he'd accomplished what he'd come for, the thought somehow didn't make him too happy.

 

***** 

 

While Arthur didn't like testing new parts on the simulator, Merlin loved it. It was about the pure science of the thing, the whole effort depending on raw data and numbers. Yes, some scenarios were less easy to make allowance for, but in this day and age technology could supply an almost infinite number of variables. Any that could present itself on a real track could be programmed into the simulator.

With the new introduction of the blown diffuser to test, they'd been at it for hours. But that was worth it because now they had something to defend: after four strong races they had the championship lead to protect.

In that light the back to back tests were worth it. Even Arthur saw that and though normally the reserve driver would have conducted the tests, Arthur was the one to insist on carrying this batch out.

Merlin chose to tune the car into what the circuit was like at the factory, got data from the circuit and tried to get a car that was suited to it. That took time. This meant that they'd been at the factory ever since morning. Now it was nearly midnight and most of the mechanics had gone home as had Mr Taliesin.

Merlin and Arthur were almost the last ones left standing. Elyan was upstairs working at some alterations. Elena had fallen asleep on a bench and was snoring softy and the few remaining team members had made themselves scarce. Merlin didn't know where they were. Probably checking computer monitors.

Arthur himself was rubbing at his eyes. 

“You're getting a lot of down-force when you're on the throttle with a blown floor,” Merlin said, almost to himself. “This new floor should give you better performance in the next race but we should keep in mind that there'd be differences in corner entries and exits on the real track.”

Arthur yawned.

“Excuse me,” Merlin said, “am I boring you?”

Arthur let go of the controls. “A little.”

Merlin huffed and looked away. “I thought you wanted to win, too.”

“Oh, come on,” said Arthur, “this is boring. This is not how you get a feel for the car.”

“And how do you propose to do it then?”

Arthur jumped out of the simulator. “On a proper F1 car.”

“We do that already,” said Merlin. “We take your feedback and...”

Arthur put both hands on Merlin's shoulders and shook his head, eyes dancing. “No, that's not what I meant.”

Merlin wasn't sure he was getting it. “Then what do you mean? Because that's standard practice.”

Arthur pushed him towards the garage, where one of the EX-26 was. “You'll only get a proper understanding if you drive it.”

“That's why—”

The garage was deserted; only the car set there. Arthur was guiding him by the hips now, his fingers digging into his skin. His voice sounded low in Merlin's ear as he said. “Feel the adrenalin, Merlin. Feel the car.”

It dawned on Merlin that Arthur meant _he_ should drive the monocoque. “I'm not a pro driver,” Merlin said. He wanted to come up with a list of reasons why Arthur's suggestion wasn't wise at all but truth be told he was more preoccupied with the way Arthur was leaning into him – almost draped along his back – and touching him, than with Arthur's proposition. Arthur's touch felt good. It was sending Merlin's heartbeat spiking. A hollow drum of expectation beat a tattoo in his stomach. What the hell?

“I'll be on the radio.”

“If I crash the car Mr Taliesin will kill me,” Merlin pointed out, clinging to any shred of logic he had left in spite of Arthur's disorientating touch. “Though in that case I might have killed myself in the first place, so...”

“We have spare chassis,” Arthur said, guiding him on and towards the car. “And you know how the car works.”

“Theoretically, still not--”

Arthur turned him around. “Live a little, Merlin, feel it,” he said and before Merlin could tell him it wasn't so easy at all, Arthur leant in, sucked in a deep breath and touched his lips to Merlin's. They were hot. 

For a second it was all that registered. Then they closed around his, sucking and licking wetly, and though there was no hint of tongue, Merlin's knees trembled. That registered way more.

Without letting go of his hips, Arthur sucked on his mouth until Merlin started thinking that any ideas Arthur might ever have were good ones. They most definitely were, if they got him more of this. Because, damn, but Arthur was a sensational kisser. One that made Merlin go soft on the inside.

Merlin kissed back for a whole handful of seconds, returning the pressure and closing his eyes to enjoy the sensations. It was a bit like floating softly on a cloud though his blood was racing in his ears. 

Merlin didn't have time to do more than tentatively clutch at Arthur's shoulder before Arthur was leaning away, wearing a satisfied grin that made Merlin – nearly – wish he hadn't kissed back. Arthur needed to dial down his own sense of how personally brilliant he was. But then again Merlin did think him special and though he didn't want to feed his star racer ego he did want to explore the kissing option again in the near future.

“So, how about you change?”

Merlin looked around. There were no witnesses. “If we get caught you'll be the one to plead guilty.”

Arthur put a hand on his heart. “Swear.”

Merlin sniggered all the way to the changing rooms. He borrowed one of the coverall fireproof suits drivers used and though the team had many Arthur gave him his own helmet for some mysterious reason. Before Merlin could wear it, Arthur came up to him, smiling in his face, all bouncy. He cupped Merlin's face but didn't go for a kiss. He just grinned to himself and lowered the helmet over Merlin's head himself.

He was also the one that got the car started, inserting the wand in the gearbox and pushing the starter motor button. Normally an entire team would have overseen this but tonight it was just the two of them pulling a stunt worthy of little kids. (Thankfully the rest of the staff was nowhere to be found and couldn't hear the engine being turned over.) That also meant they had no one to check engine speed and oil pressure, but that was no biggie since Merlin wasn't really competing. Without doing those checks Arthur turned the ignition on. 

Engine fired, Merlin went for a clutch bite point check and then started. Before he knew what was happening he was on the track. Oh God, the powers that be would kill him for this. 

“Do burn outs,” Arthur told him over the radio. Merlin was now on the factory track and giving his utmost attention to not crashing the car, but there Arthur was, telling him to warm the tyres when there was no need because he didn't need them to be. “I'm not racing, Arthur,” Merlin reminded him.”I don't need to perform.”

“Believe me, you will need to,” said Arthur in a low burr that wasn't at all typical of his intonation. 

“Come off it,” Merlin said, half laughing, half trying to absorb the shock of being behind the wheel of this powerful car. For now he was going relatively slowly but the effects of driving the EX-26 weren't lost on him.

It was thrilling and a bit scary. He felt both on top of the world and really, really powerless to control this thing, this thing he himself had made.

To begin with Merlin could see nothing at all at the front of the car and had to imagine where the front wing was. Merlin knew the design by heart, so he could place any mechanical part and point to it on a design chart, but being in the cockpit was completely different.

He was going fast and could see so little! Tunnel vision was taking over and at this speed it was something else.

Merlin barrelled over a bridge and down a straight. “Arthuuuur,” he said, pushing the radio button. He didn't mean anything by it and he wasn't sure he even wanted any answer back. He was just living the moment. And he needed to shout, a little.

“You're about to go into a corner,” Arthur told him. “Do all your breaking and shifting now before you're into it.”

Merlin obeyed because Arthur would know. Entering the curve was a new experience and like nothing Merlin had ever been through before. The cockpit was already tight enough and the G force levels were having a field day with him. But taking that curve was something else and even worse. His head felt like it was being blown off his neck and he was being pushed against the seat. It was one thing to know about and provide for G-forces theoretically, quite another to feel them on yourself.

“The steering wheel is your friend, Merlin,” Arthur teased.

“Hey,” Merlin told him, “it's enough that I'm driiiiiving this monster.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, a lilt like an attempt to conceal the laughter in his tone. “Are you having fun?”

Merlin was. The speed level alone was exciting even though he wasn't pushing it. Blood roared in his ears and his body was being tested to the max. He shook so hard when the car careened up and down a bump that his vision went blurry for a second and his foot bounced up and down on the accelerator pedal on its own. But that too was its own kind of brilliant. Shocking, but great.

“Trust the car's traction,” Arthur said to him, his voice warm as if he was having fun with this too. Maybe he just liked going into teacher mode. “You've built a good car.”

Merlin did and the following two laps were heaps of fun. He was going fast enough to sense the adrenalin coursing through him but not fast enough to put himself in danger. The thrill of driving his own creation was all there: heart hammering in his chest, sweaty palms within his gloves, goose flesh all over him. 

He still made mistakes like when he hit the gas a little too hard on an exit and the back end of the car stepped out faster than he'd thought it would, causing the car to spin sideways, but that didn't stop the enjoyment. Although he shouted, “Arthur”

“Give lock, Merlin, give lock.” 

Merlin blindly obeyed, feathering his foot on the accelerator. Before he could count to three the car was straight again and still on the track. Merlin whooped. After the release of energy, he felt on a high. Now he could understand a couple more things about Arthur.

Driving The EX26 was just incomparable. Merlin feared his electric car would never feel quite the same after this. This was motoring heaven. Merlin could go round and round on the EX forever.

Well, he couldn't keep doing it indefinitely. Fuel levels were going down and he was close to wearing down the tyres. Something he couldn't explain without getting the telling off of the century. This had to be it. With a sigh he hoped Arthur hadn't heard, Merlin drove back to the garage and shut the car down.

Arthur was there to extract him from it, which wasn't as easy as it seemed if you weren't used to the confined space. With Merlin sitting astride its side, Arthur took off Merlin's helmet, his face in his hands and kissed Merlin. 

At first he bit down on Merlin’s lower lip but when Merlin gasped he found himself tasting Arthur’s tongue. It was spit-wet and hot and passionate. They were playing tongue tag and gasping in each other's mouths until they had no breath to breathe.

Withdrawing, Merlin brushed his lips and tongue against Arthur's in one final pass. “That was,” he said, “pretty brilliant.”

“The car or the kiss?” Arthur asked. There was a mischievous light in his eyes that told Merlin he wasn't even the littlest bit serious.

“The product of my own genius,” Merlin deadpanned and Arthur laughed.

Arthur gripped Merlin's chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Mine or yours?”

“Mine,” said Merlin, wanting to have Arthur in his world but okay with pretty much anything as long as he got to undress Arthur and have sex with him.

Before that could happen though they had to put everything back in place and change into their day clothes. That didn't mean that they wouldn't touch when the opportunity presented itself but they have to stave most of that off.

Until at least they got to Merlin's. 

Once they were there things changed. Merlin knew that things were more charged now. 

Arthur was looking at him with a hunger in his eyes that Merlin didn't know he could feel and, as for Merlin, his pulse was drumming hard in his throat, so much so he couldn't swallow around it.

They came together quickly and in a clash of limbs. Merlin had Arthur slammed against the door. They were breathing hard, not kissing yet, but looking into each other's widened eyes.

Arthur's trousers were tented and Merlin felt a stir that meant his would be soon too. Even though Arthur was the one with his back to the door it was him that pulled Merlin forward to his mouth. With a hand cupped around Merlin's nape he just reeled him in.

Merlin couldn't complain. He went for the kiss; touched the tip of his tongue to Arthur's lips. Arthur's mouth opened. He tilted his head so Merlin could delve deeper, which Merlin did, catching a taste of Arthur as their tongues met. 

Arthur groaned against his mouth and pulled Merlin flush against himself. He cupped his bottom and then started mouthing at Merlin's face, his own pressed against Merlin's throat. 

Arthur was giving hard biting kisses that were sure to leave bruises. Nipping at the skin, licking, sending Merlin's heartbeat spiking he was so conscious of it.

Arthur's hands weren't steady as he lifted Merlin's shirt up to touch his skin. They trembled all the way down to the small of Merlin's back, where they rested, pulling Merlin towards Arthur's body even though there was no space left between them. 

Merlin moaned and said, “Eager.”

“You are baffling,” Arthur said. “And crazy and stupid and I want you.”

Merlin smiled against Arthur's mouth. “I don't see the problem.”

There was some more wet and frantic kissing but by then Merlin was so hard he didn't think he could take staying clothed much longer.

Knowing that neither of them would put an end to the touching but that that would stop them from getting undressed, Merlin stepped backwards. “Clothes,” he said. “Clothes have got to go.”

Arthur nodded, his breath coming heavy. He fumbled with his belt while Merlin pulled off his jumper. He stripped while watching Arthur do the same. They walked back one towards the other when all their clothes were lying in a pile on the floor.

Completely bare, their bodies met again. Arthur kissed his throat, teasing him with his tongue and teeth. Artfully, he raised a tiny welt that made Merlin gasp. “Where's your bedroom?” he asked.

Merlin pointed backwards. “That...” Merlin had to gulp before he could complete the sentence because Arthur wasn't really refraining from touching him. “That way.”

They waltzed backwards and sideways, hands on each other, Merlin's by Arthur's flanks, Arthur's on his chest until they passed the bedroom door and Arthur could shove him down on the bed.

There was a moment in between when Merlin felt the lack of contact keenly, but then Arthur crawled up the bed and slid up between Merlin's spread knees, pushing a hand through Merlin's hair to bare his throat. 

He latched on with parted lips, moving on to trace a clavicle and then downwards to take Merlin's nipple in his mouth, under his tongue, rolling it across the tip and making it pebble until the skin was wrinkling around it and Merlin writhing.

Then Arthur lowered his body, their thighs brushing one against the other, their bellies close together, dampened with sweat. Arthur's pre-come glistened on Merlin's skin; when he moved their cocks grazed. It felt so good Merlin had to bite his lip bloody so as not to shout and give Arthur's eventual teasing more ammunition.

But Arthur wasn't smirking; he wasn't even talking much. He looked dazed and serious, his eyes big, his gaze intent as if he was concentrating.

Pushing a raw groan out of him. Arthur shifted. Merlin arched up into him, trying to angle his body so that their cocks would touch again, but when Arthur's mouth sealed over his, Merlin became unable to do anything other than buck up and search for more of that touch.

“I've wanted you for quite a long while, you know,” said Arthur.

“You didn't say,” Merlin gasped, their bodies, slotting together and creating friction.

“I didn't know what it was,” Arthur said, levering himself up just to fall back down again.

Merlin's hands grasped at Arthur’s back, clawing, opening, closing again. He wanted to chase Arthur's body, wrap himself around it. He wanted to feel Arthur, his weight, his breath, his taste. He knew what he wanted with more clarity than before. Arthur wasn't just hot: he was lovely and the way he was looking at Merlin, soft, addled, attentive was moving. The degree of attention he was giving Merlin wasn't unlike the one he sported on the job when his life was on the line. The way he was looking at Merlin was smiliar to the way he focused on the job. Merlin felt a bit like a car, but in the good way, because he knew Arthur had a passion for them and would get all lovingly distracted when he was introduced to a feat of engineering. Feeling like he was Arthur's passion wasn't bad at all. “Do you have condoms?” he panted.

Arthur's body stuttered to a halt, his body damp with sweat, his eyes large as were the pupils within. “Yeah,” he said. “You want to...”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then,” Arthur said, propping himself up on his elbow. “I'm going to... get one. Got one in my wallet. Because--”

Merlin laughed. He'd never heard Arthur mess up his delivery so much. “Go and get it. I'll get the lube.”

By the time Merlin had got it from his bathroom cabinet, Arthur had come back with the condom. Finding their places back on the bed was a bit awkward at first but after they’d sorted themselves (and limbs) out they had a laugh about it and fell into their groove. 

Arthur opened him up with his fingers, then greased him up with the lube. He made of it something exciting, a slow torment, instead of something perfunctory. Merlin felt new sweat break upon his body. The surges of pleasure made him stiffen and sob and make noise. There were live-wire flares of it that made his body jerk, his heart fill, and his cock leak on his belly. Made him spasm and thresh and shiver.

“Look at you,” Arthur said.

Merlin wanted to scream. He hoped Arthur wasn't teasing him, because Merlin was on the edge. Arthur did say it in a wondering way and he had an earnest look about him. But Merlin wasn't in a state to parse looks, so he said, “I'd like it if you did a little bit more than look at me.”

“Bossy,” Arthur said, but he complied.

They slotted back together, Arthur sliding on top of him. With Merlin so ready from minutes of prep, he pushed in in one slick move. 

They didn't pick up a rhythm at first; pussyfooting around the new sensations until Arthur gave into the stimulus of movement, inching in and drawing back only to fill Merlin up again. 

Fire skittered down Merlin's flesh, like tiny tongues licking at his fingertips, growing deep inside him. His pleasure pulsed thicker as Arthur pressed close into him. 

Merlin was tasting Arthur's breath as well as a return of his own caught on the edge of Arthur's breathing pattern. Their mouths were so close, a hair's breadth apart, a kiss was about to bloom there. It didn't quite. Merlin sank his teeth into Arthur's lower lip because Arthur had pushed in, and Merlin needed to grasp something, gasp, return just a bit of the energy that Arthur was giving him. 

He had to do, give, act. Arthur was the same.

Their hands were everywhere all at once, holding, rubbing, caressing. Merlin lifted up, Arthur bore down, trapping Merlin's cock between their bodies, grinding down. He was trembling, mumbling words that made little sense, tipping forwards. “Come on, Merlin, come on.”

Merlin didn't think he needed any more exhortations. The air between them was thick and Arthur was moving just right, hitting all the most perfect spots. On one last pass he angled his hips so that Merlin just blacked out, coming almost an afterthought to the pleasure.

Arthur nuzzled his face, kissed him, told him he was, “Beautiful, and shit, Merlin,” all the while shoving into him. His thrusts were now short, hard, fast. The nonsense spilling out of his mouth incomprehensible. But he looked good, lovely, and Merlin could understand the intent behind the words if not the words. It was all about how good it was and the surprise of it. A surprise so staggering Arthur was startled by his orgasm, grabbing onto Merlin's flank, freezing, body locked, until Merlin could feel him on the inside, pulsing and spilling, condom notwithstanding.

“Fuck,” said Arthur, toppling down, his weight pinning Merlin to the mattress.

“How poetic,” Merlin said, a gasp and a hiss following as Arthur slipped out. 

“I am,” said Arthur, flopped onto his belly, reaching out so he could touch Merlin's face. “You just haven't learnt to appreciate me.”

Merlin's muscles twitched a little at Arthur's tactile reading of his face. “Should I?” he asked.

“Should you what?” The pads of Arthur's fingers were light on Merlin's upper lip.

“Take my time with you?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, eyes glinting in the semi-darkness. “Yes, you should. You should give me a chance.”

“I think I will.”

 

*****

> **Part Three.**

Adrenalin buzzed in his veins. Racing was nothing to this, really nothing. It paled by comparison. Arthur thought he lived for the thrill, but, no, this somehow had racing beat. He clenched his jaw tight as Merlin set his teeth over his neck.

He reached out to grasp at the sheets as Merlin slid on top of him. 

“No, no,” Merlin muttered, “no. Look at me.”

Arthur wasn't sure he wanted that. Merlin's eyes went glossy and dazed during sex. He was lovely and Arthur wasn't sure he could take Merlin being that way on top of the sensations he was experiencing.  
He felt like he'd spill out of his skin, that he'd come apart, and he'd never been in that position. He didn't want Merlin to see that. Not yet.

“Look at me, Arthur,” Merlin said, before pressing into him, a hand behind his neck.

Arthur turned his head. 

Merlin touched his lips to his face in a pattern that led him to Arthur's mouth. The first press was chaste, but the second wasn't. Merlin's hand tightened on Arthur’s jaw, holding him as he drew Arthur's tongue into his mouth. 

Eyes open, gaze unbroken, they went at each other's mouths, Merlin sucking on his tongue.

Merlin pressed himself against Arthur's body and Arthur trembled at the feel of Merlin's fat prick sliding against his skin, leaving trails of pre-come in its wake.

Dropping a hand from Merlin's shoulder to his waist, Arthur hooked Merlin closer, grinding against him. His breath hitched loudly, and he was making these little noises he'd never been aware of making before. He silenced then against Merlin's lips. Against his flesh, closing his teeth on Merlin's neck, fitting them together. 

Arthur worked his hands up Merlin's back, stopping at the shoulder blades. 

Merlin was nipping at Arthur’s jaw and that, too, was perfect. 

Legs falling open, Arthur tugged Merlin closer between his thighs.

Arthur's face burned. He didn't ask. Couldn't ask. He hoped that the shift of his hips told Merlin everything he needed to know about what Arthur wanted. 

Merlin seemed to read Arthur's meaning right, for he braced myself above him, the tendons in his arms sticking out. 

Arthur pulled one knee up and hooked it over Merlin's shoulder. He'd be lying through his teeth if he didn't admit to shaking hard. In the last two days he hadn't left Merlin's flat for one moment. He'd been basking in Merlin nonstop. If he stopped and thought about it, it was a lot. It was a bit of a game changer. But he didn't want to think about how this wasn't as casual as the relationships he usually had in-season.

He wanted to have more Merlin, all the time. Full stop.

Merlin's eyes went to the space between their bodies. 

Arthur's throat worked and his brows drew together.

Merlin lined up with him, reached down and guided himself in, entering him slowly. Arthur sucked in a quick breath and grabbed Merlin's biceps. He was being pressed into the bed, but even so he moved up so as to spur Merlin on. And woah. That was what he'd been hunkering after. Just that. This close.

Sliding an arm beneath Merlin's shoulder, Arthur forced a pace, causing Merlin to move. For a few blissful moments it was all about the skin on skin feeling, about enjoying the slow momentum. Their breaths fusing, Arthur's body thrumming. 

Arthur was tracing patterns down Merlin's back, falling back into Merlin's rhythm, when Merlin looked at him, soft and happy, and lowered his mouth to find Arthur's. The kiss was like a punch, delivered with a softness that hurt even more than savage passion would.

In counterpoint, Merlin angled his hips and began gyrating them. It was getting so good Arthur made a little noise that was muffled by Merlin's seeking lips.

It was getting so good. Arthur was of a mind to curse or shout his feelings from the rooftops, the mere idea embarrassing.

It was getting so good Arthur was so close to working himself up to an orgasm prompted by nothing more than Merlin fucking him, his own cock untouched. 

But then the doorbell rang.

Merlin stopped moving, his mouth releasing Arthur's. “Is that?”

Arthur's fingers dug into Merlin's skin. “Yes, it was and, no, you're not.”

“What if it's urgent?” Merlin asked. His eyes were dark with lust and his body was tightly wound. But he still looked sheepish at the thought of doing something wrong, keeping someone out.

Arthur sneaked a glance at his fattened cock. “This is urgent too.”

Merlin stifled a laugh in Arthur's neck and Arthur was sure he'd persuaded him to give up on finding out who the bothersome visitor was when the doorbell went again.

“I think it might just be important,” said Merlin. “Maybe they want you back at the factory?”

“Ha, ha,” said Arthur, erection wilting as Merlin pulled out. “I have two free days before Silverstone and they have no way of knowing I'm here.”

“Then they must be wanting me,” said Merlin, pulling on a pair of rather ratty joggers. “I promise if it's some stupid neighbour about some stupid thing I'll turn them out. Okay?”

Arthur folded his arms but nodded.

“I'll be back in a thrice.” Merlin was out of bedroom pretty quickly. 

Arthur stayed in bed, eyes on the ceiling, nose in the pillow, which smelt of Merlin and of him too. It made him smile. And the smile remained on his lips till he heard a voice he knew well coming from the next room.

“Really, Merlin, it's a minor catastrophe,” Vivian said. “My flat's flooded. Flooded. I've lost all my furniture and the walls are getting mouldy already. I need a place to crash at for a few nights. Can't go back home.”

Hearing that prompted Arthur to rise from bed. He put on Merlin's bathrobe because his own clothes had a two day stench about them and marched out of the room.

Merlin was saying, “Well, yes, I see, but--”

“You're not in for it because you've got your hot boy here, I see,” Vivian said, her eyes sweeping over Arthur from head to toe.

“No, I--” Merlin turned around to see Arthur there. “Yes, he's here.”

“And you want to have lots of monkey sex so you're turning me out, I see,” said Vivian in a tiny voice Arthur suspected was laid on thick.

Merlin put both his hands out. “No, it's not like that.”

Privately, Arthur thought it was just like that. In normal circumstances he'd be the first to urge Merlin to do the chivalrous thing and put Vivian up for the night. But after having been denied an almost assured orgasm he was feeling somewhat petty. “I hope it's a little bit like that.”

Vivian picked up her suitcase. “I completely understand. I'll go through my contacts list hoping to find someone who'll take me.”

Arthur knew it would happen. Merlin dashed for her arm and stopped her. “No, no, stay. I have a room for you and everything. Give me an hour and I'll de-clutter the guest room. Oh and you'll be on your own over the weekend because, well--”

“Silverstone.” Vivian's lips turned up. She put her case down and rushed into Merlin's arms. “Thank you for having me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was right. You smell like sex. Go have a shower, please.”

Arthur retreated to Merlin's bedroom and released a sigh. So much for spending his last free days before tests in a bed with Merlin.

 

**** 

 

Merlin was so proud of Arthur. Though he hadn't done well in the Silverstone qualifying session – a slide into the barriers that scared Merlin shitless lost him so much time – he recovered well enough during the race. So much so that, despite having started from the bottom, he ended third.

The race offered a lot of other breathtaking moments as well. Arthur survived a first-lap collision with de Ganis, and a second one with a track-side marker board, only to force his way back in – and pass Mercia's Velany for the final podium spot. And that with four laps of the race remaining. 

After Silverstone, Arthur was trailing Valiant by five points and a lot of races of the season were still ripe for the taking. Newspapers were dubbing Arthur the luckiest person in Formula One. Most were also predicting his victory of the overall championship.

Arthur even released an interview in which he declared himself to be, “On cloud nine.”

Things were so perfect Merlin was expecting a set back or two. That would just be normal. Sometimes cars malfunctioned or the weather was adverse. He was ready for that. What he hadn't been expecting was Western doing suddenly so well as to pose a problem.

At Nürburring Valiant thrust himself into the race like a madman, winning it, while Arthur finished third. 

Two weeks later, in Budapest, it was more of the same. After a manic opening lap, Valiant got three places ahead, passing Arthur, de Ganis, and then Lancelot too. Arthur tried a heart-in-the-mouth move around the outside of turn nine, but the race settled against him, Valiant pulling away. And winning, sadly.

Two weeks later luck was against them once again. Lancelot did well, but Arthur was involved in a an horrific crash involving two other pilots; the first of whom ended up losing his steering and colliding with Arthur and sending him of the track. This saw Arthur shearing through the back of his car before weaselling his way out of the cockpit. The accident had been caused by one of Valiant's crazy attempts at overtaking.

This caused a twitter feud between Arthur and Valiant with Arthur calling Valiant out on his desperate driving as well as speculation as to Arthur's future in F1. Newspapers featured articles predicting a possible switch to other (minor) teams or the absolute end of Arthur's career.

The truth was that Arthur was only 35 points behind. And since each first place was worth 25 points Arthur only needed a couple more podiums to climb back to the top of the WDC. 

Obviously though the goings on didn't fail to worry the execs, and Mr Taliesin called a meeting designed to discuss new strategies.

“As you know things haven't being going well,” Mr Taliesin said, the answer to his words being a general murmur and nod. “We are here to decide on new tactics. We must find the reason why Western is outperforming us lately.”

“Bad luck,” said Elyan, as one of the team's head aereodynamics experts. “We didn't do anything different and last week was sheer happen-stance.”

“Yes,” said Elena. As a mechanic her point of view counted with the big wigs. “They haven't made any changes to the car that weren't mere set up ones. They've used up their eight engine season allowance when Arthur was winning like crazy, so they can't have used a ninth. This means that, since things are as they were before, we just ran into some bad luck.”

“No,” the team's managing director said. “That's too facile an explanation. Maybe we put too much faith in our new CD and his designs. Maybe Mr Emrys' design doesn't stand repeated testing over the long term.”

Merlin felt his face heat. He was ready to defend his design. He thought it was the best he could come up with given FIA regulations and the restrictions imposed by the technology itself. “The engine is a good one,” he said, calling up a series of charts on his lap top that were now being shown on the main screen looming behind the table they were assembled at. “The data shows examples of reliability...”

“It not breaking down isn't good news,” the managing director said, “reliability is all well and good but not if we're under-performing.”

Merlin had no objections to make to that. Perhaps these people were right. He was the least experienced of them all and while in good conscience he'd run all sorts of test to make sure the EX-26 would be the best possible car, he might have made mistakes. He'd made it safe. He'd made it fast though at this point it seemed he hadn't made it fast enough. They could make tweaks to the engine. Try new set-ups. “We can run more tests.”

“Or perhaps,” the managing director said, pushing his glasses to the top of his nose, “we should find a new CD.”

Merlin's face heated. His ears rang. He knew he'd been given a big chance with this job and now it was like a Merlin shaped chasm was opening under his feat. Part of him wanted to fight and explain why his design was worth a shot. He wanted to make his point. Part of him wanted to shut up and disappear. Take the boot and be done with it.

He hadn't come to a decision as to which course to take when Arthur spoke up. “It's not the car. The whole engineering team is supporting him and proud of his design.”

“And yet,” the managing director said, flipping the pages of a bound report, “I have it on paper that you asked for him to be removed from his position should the team under-perform as a consequence of the CD switch.”

Arthur rose to his feet, sending the papers around him flying. “Wait, wait, I never really meant it. Or rather I meant it before I knew him.” Arthur pointed to Merlin. “He's worked harder than anyone I know to ensure we give the best performances.”

Lancelot nodded his head. “I agree. Merlin's given us a car I feel safe in. One I can push a little bit harder without danger. It's been three grand prix that we've done less well at. There's more and it's not as if we didn't finish or finished badly at all.”

“The sponsors won't be happy,” said Mr Taliesin.

The managing director picked up on that. “No, they won't be. And we must protect ourselves by ensuring a winning streak. I suggest we put Mr Emrys' laying off to the vote.”

Merlin's mouth just fell open. “I'm sorry, but I do have a contract here!”

“We'll reach a settlement.”

That meant nothing to him. He'd sold them the rights to his patent and being sacked after a few months of employment would be like a black mark on his CV. Professionally speaking this was pretty bad. “I—“

Arthur's eyes flashed. “If you terminate Merlin's contract I can assure you you're losing me too.”

“Now, now,” said the managing director, “that's blackmail.”

“And that's unlawful termination,” said Arthur.

“I was talking about a settlement.”

“Oh, yes, because screwing him over under the pretence of a settlement is just fine,” said Arthur, taking a step away from the table.

Lancelot looked like he wanted to do the same and Elena announced, “I support Merlin.”

Like Arthur, Merlin rose to his feet. He cleared his throat and said, “I still stand by my design and I will go if you prove to me that the losing trend is due to flaws in it.”

Mr Taliesin was nodding but the managing director was tapping his fingers in annoyance. “Objection noted, Mr Emrys,” he said stiffly, “but I still want to put my motion to the vote. For that reason, I'm going to ask you to wait outside. You have made friends here and your presence could sway the vote.”

Merlin picked up his laptop and his papers and said, “Very well.” 

As soon as he was out Merlin heard the clamour of voices, Arthur's, generally pretty calm being the loudest. He definitely heard the words, “This is absurd and preposterous!” and that was when he decided to move away. It was bad enough to get his job snatched from him just when he was so happy about it – not to mention the humiliation of it – but hearing Arthur try to defend him was a little too much.

It knotted his throat up. Arthur was sometimes sarcastic and Merlin hadn't often seen him ruffled. That he would lose that composure on Merlin's behalf was a little bit touching even though Merlin meant to tell him he'd be able to stand on his own legs about it.

So as not to be able to overhear more, Merlin made his way down the corridor. When he found that the buzz coming from the other room had died down he stopped. As he waited for the meeting to be over, he leant against the window and looked out at the courtyard.

He was so lost in thought that he startled when Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Meeting's over.”

Merlin tried to read the outcome in Arthur's eyes and when he couldn't he found himself forced to ask. “So am I out?”

“Not as yet.” Arthur's face was so pinched Merlin was sure that wasn't good news. “If we don't get a podium in the next grand prix you are.”

Merlin couldn't bear to see the intensity in Arthur's eyes so he dropped his gaze. “They can cut their charade short. I'm ready to do better but if they don't want me...”

Arthur's hand on his shoulder gripped tighter. “No, no way. They're not walking away with your patent. Not like that. I'm going to win Monza for you. I swear.”

Merlin let the breath gust out of him. “You don't owe me that. You don't have to.”

Arthur dropped his hand from Merlin's shoulder, trailed it down his arm to end up brushing Merlin's fingers with his. “I don't want you to be treated that way. It's not right.” Arthur took a step forward and a soft smile creased his face. “I want to work with you because I--”

The doors of the meeting room spilled open and Arthur stepped back. 

Elena, Elyan and Lancelot came over to them.

“You have all my support,” Elena said, crossing her arms under her breasts. “And if you're going I'm going with you.”

Elyan clapped Merlin's back. “You have mine too. I tried to explain the hard facts to them from an aerodynamics point of view, but they're more interested in victories and sponsorships.”

Lancelot's eyes were earnest when he said, “I'll do my best to ensure a double win for us.”

Merlin had tears in his eyes. Here were so many people he was ready to love offering care and support. Losing this job would mean losing them too and that was worse than the blot on his CV and the lost pay. “Thank you so much, really, I-- Thank you.”

Merlin was group hugged.

 

****

 

Arthur didn't see Merlin for days because all Merlin did was work. Not that Arthur didn't – he put in punishing hours – but Merlin was beating him fairly and squarely in that regard. 

He didn't need to be at the factory twenty-four seven, seven days a week, but he made it there all the same. And almost never resurfaced. Not unless he looked and sounded like a zombie unable to do anything else but sleep.

Between testing and Merlin's increased devotion to working late hours, Arthur only heard from Merlin on the phone. Arthur was used to toiling for long stretches of time; championship season was taxing for a driver. Every two weeks or so you had to give your best, engage both body and mind to the limits, focus almost entirely on the task in hand.

But what Merlin was doing here was different. It was positively unhealthy. Arthur had tried to tell him but Merlin could be stubborn and self-sacrificial when he wanted to be. So Arthur had to do his best by him in another way.

He'd already promised he'd win the next race for him but that wasn't enough. He needed to make the bosses happy so that they wouldn't sack Merlin. 

That was the reason why he accepted a photo shoot for Energy Buzz. If the bosses were satisfied things weren't changing in terms of sponsorship deals, they'd be less inclined to get alarmed about a few single race results and more accepting towards Merlin. If that were the case they wouldn't sack him.

For that very reason Arthur found himself sitting on a stool holding a can of Energy Buzz – Orange Flavour. His shirt was open, all the buttons undone, and he was told to set his shoulders wide and pose 'sexily'.

Arthur felt like a mighty idiot but he thought of Merlin, gritted his teeth, and did it.

An hour into the photo-shoot, Gwaine ambled on set and came up to him. “So, having fun?”

“Not my idea of fun, no,” Arthur told him, even as he was told to shift so he was giving the photographer his profile.

“Oh come on, showing off for the camera must be great,” said Gwaine, fake posing too. “Great confidence booster.”

Arthur grunted. “I'd eagerly trade places.”

Gwaine smirked. “Oddly enough I believe you would. But it's not a good idea.”

“I know.”

“Especially not now,” said Gwaine, frowning at his nails. “Not with the new contract Valiant has signed. It's even bigger than we thought.”

That got Arthur's attention. “What do you mean?”

“What could I possibly mean?” said Gwaine, leaning closer while adopting a conspiratorial voice. “The obvious. The current winning streak's allowed Western to get a better contract with our rival. And there's money in it for Valiant too because he's the Man of the Hour.” Gwaine made air quotes.

Normally, Arthur wouldn't grudge anyone the fruits of their victory but Valiant getting rewarded for basically driving as dangerously as he could didn't sit well with him. It was worse when he considered that his actions might put Merlin in an even more difficult position. “Can I ask you something?”

Gwaine looked happy to be involved at all. “Yeah, sure, fire away.”

“How many people know about Western's new and improved contract?” Arthur gave a look at the photographer, hoping he was still busy fiddling with his equipment. This was a question he wanted answered and fuck if he didn't get what he needed because of a silly torso shot.

“The news is not public,” Gwaine told him. His eyebrow climbed upwards. “But if you're interested and have got the right connections you might find out about it.”

Arthur understood how that might work. Big companies had an eye out for what their rivals did. Excalibur had an eye on Mercia and Western as its strongest competitors. It stood to reason to think that Energy Buzz would be aware of what its own rivals did. “Can I ask you a favour?”

Gwaine lifted both his shoulders in a half shrug. “Tell me what you want and I'll tell you if I'm down with it.”

“Don't tell my bosses yet.”

Gwaine coughed into his fist. “They'll learn about it sooner or later.”

Arthur fixed Gwaine with an earnest stare. “I'm asking you to keep it hushed only until the new grand prix. After Monza...” Arthur couldn't explain the ins and out of Excalibur's internal policy but he could hint. “It's for Merlin, please.”

Gwaine's lips turned up. “For Merlin this and more,” Gwaine said with a flourish Arthur was learning was typical of him. “He's a good bloke.”

Since the photographer was done priming the shot, Gwaine made to strut off the set, but Arthur stopped him with a hand around his arm. “Thank you for that. I-- I misjudged you.”

“Nah,” Gwaine said, eyebrows waggling. “It was just your feelings talking, mate. But I'm glad my lovability record is unbroken.”

Arthur watched him go with a little scoff but he couldn't say Gwaine had it completely wrong. He had been just a little bit jealous and less than friendly towards Gwaine.

The rest of the shoot seemed a little bit more bearable, if only because he had achieved something that seemed more useful than having a few pictures of him guzzling fizzy drinks taken. They told him they'd send him test batches so he could have a say in the choice of promotional material. His PR agent would get the same negatives too. Arthur couldn't care less. If they chose the worst photo of the bunch it was still fine by him. 

Once the photographer pronounced himself satisfied Arthur left the premises.

He had Monza to think about. He had to do well. He had to win. He'd do anything to win. For Merlin.

That Thursday he flew out to Italy. He spent most of the day with the team, checking that his car was working at its best and devising a strategy for the weekend. Taliesin called the shots and Merlin supplied schematic variations nonstop. Arthur wanted to tell him to unwind; that he was about to explode and that that would help no one. But he changed his mind when Merlin started shouting at Elena's well-intentioned advice, suggesting Merlin take a break. “I can't, all right! I need to tweak this.”

Arthur who'd been making for him, changed course and moved over to Lancelot, Lancelot's look stressing how he, too, had understood the reason behind Arthur's deviation.

Later that evening, before the press conference and autograph session the Excalibur drivers had been booked for, Arthur made a point of going to look for Merlin in the paddock. Precise as clockwork, Arthur found him there. Merlin was pacing to and fro between a blackboard and an installation displaying two engines.

His shoulders were so tense they seemed to be wanting to climb around his neck. He was muttering to himself, his hair on end and generally appearing like a man at the end of his tether.

Arthur wished he could ease his discomfort with a stroke of his hands, hold him and tell him that everything was going to be fine. He couldn't. Not without everybody knowing about them and drawing the wrong conclusions about why Arthur thought Merlin deserved to stay on the Excalibur team. 

Arthur went up to Merlin and stopped him pacing by placing both hands on his shoulders. 

“Merlin,” he said. He smiled because that seemed the best option to calm Merlin down. Arthur did it, despite probably looking stupid and while realising it would annoy Merlin. Merlin had no patience for anyone these days. Arthur added, “You know, everything's going to turn out fine.” He flicked his fingers against Merlin's forehead. “There's so many ideas floating in here, granted some of them are silly--” He let his smile stretch – “that we're going to be okay. You're going to do great.”

Merlin breathed a long inhale. “But I've got to decide. Do we change engines or not? We're allowed one more change. A fresh engine would be better. But is that strategic? Shouldn't we wait for Western's to go through its normal wear?”

Arthur knew Merlin was trying to exercise some control over his frazzled nerves, but he wasn't succeeding well so he just said, “Merlin, you're magic at what you do. You'll make the best decision yet.” 

Merlin looked at him as if Arthur was spouting nonsense so Arthur just got him into a headlock, however childish that might look, and made him laugh. 

Unfortunately, Arthur had to go attend his press conference but he didn't take his eyes off Merlin, who went back to gazing at a complex array of diagrams, until he was out of the compound.

He wished no conferences had been slotted for that day so that he could stay by Merlin's side.

Since the team had signed up for the extra two-hour test session, practice started very early on the following morning. Arthur had got up at dawn and spent an hour at the gym, then rejoined his team.

On trend, Merlin was already there and Arthur suspected he hadn't slept that much at all.

The pattern continued.

On Saturday Arthur didn't win the pole, but things didn't go bad in that he placed nicely all the same. If there was something that Arthur knew how to do, it was how to push ahead and get a lead. He was confident, the more so since Lancelot was meant to fall just one place behind him on the grid. 

Despite the good results, Merlin was still acting like a crazed ant.

Sunday Arthur's attention was all geared towards the race. He owed it to Merlin to win.

The green light flashed on the starting gantry, indicating the warm up lap was about to start. Arthur knew that what he did now was going to matter later. To make a good start, he had to ensure he got enough heat into his brakes and, in particular, his tyres. 

He did more burn outs than normal just to be sure.

“I think you've got enough grip,” Elena told him over the radio. “Good luck, Arthur.”

Arthur hoped his luck would indeed hold. During warm-up he and Valiant took turns setting the fastest time. Arthur's were promising. He made a point of thinking of nothing but the race. His performance was what counted the most. 

With the warm up lap drawing to a close the race proper was about to start. The noise of the engines tore upwards as the red light came on, the racket growing higher as the green flashed. Arthur was off as soon as allowed. 

Right at the start of the race Arthur had to fend off a flying start from De Ganis, who had already jumped Valiant, and by the time the following lap was over he had to stop Valiant's thrust for a first place. 

Valiant was once again driving like he had the devil at his heels and didn't care one jot if he caused accidents. 

He was reckless, his tactic causing others to back off when Valiant simply wouldn't. It was either that or courting death and no driver was mad enough to risk their lives. Valiant's crazy shtick worked in that no one was as reckless as him. You'd just back off rather than crash.

Arthur tried to run his own race and mind his own business, strategically falling back and away from Valiant, only to recoup into the fifteenth lap. It was then that Arthur managed to get past Velany and to climb up the placement ladder. 

On the next back straight he was careening down fast but had to come to a halt as he approached the most dangerous curve in the circuit. 

“Take it easy, Arthur,” came Mr Taliesin's voice, cautioning him. “Western has one more pit stop to go.”

Arthur had to bank on that. He waited for Valiant to go refuel and then pressed his advantage. He never let de Ganis out of his cross-hairs and closed the gap to the point that he could almost get a good sniff of the Mercia’s rear exhaust. He had a chance to overtake. The perfect chance. De Ganis, a radio comm told him, was only six seconds further up the road.

Arthur was already speeding up enough to follow on his plan to gain first place when he saw a blue blur coming at him. He had to blink to be able to see what it was. “Fuck, Valiant.”

Back from the pit lane, Valiant was coming at him, battling for the corner.

Arthur was already ahead and Valiant should have given way. Knowing Valiant that was a 'when pigs fly' situation, perhaps. The fact remained, Valiant was trying to push Arthur instead of passing the first Mercia car around the outside at the corner. Valiant barrelled outwards, seemingly aiming right for him. Arthur steered, vying for space to avoid a crash. Valiant most certainly was inviting one. He kept on gunning for Arthur, cornering him again, even though Arthur was giving way in so far as he could without ceding his place.

He and Valiant battled it out, Arthur steering to avoid a collision. He needed a little bit of space, just a little bit, and then he could leave Valiant behind.

“Arthur, he's under-braking,” said Taliesin agitatedly. “Leave it.”

Arthur had only one thought, making it for Merlin. “Can't, sorry.”

He didn't brake as much as he could have in the circumstances. His stats would be readable in the pit.

“Arthur, please, let it go,” Merlin said. “Please.”

All it took was one moment, Valiant trying to push him all the way to the outside, and then Arthur collided with him, his teeth rattling into his skull. In the blink of an eye he was spinning out the race track, upcoming cars avoiding him as the Ex turned and turned before coming to a halt.

He was helped out the car by race officials. Thwacking his helmet against the car's broadside, he spat, “That fucker!” 

 

****

 

Watching the Grand Prix free trials from his own armchair was definitely weird. Before landing a job with Excalibur Merlin wouldn't have set his alarm so as to be able to see the outcomes. He'd have slept through it and not even cared about the results. He'd have read them in the papers and be content with that. Even oblivious.

Now here he was trying to catch a glimpse of what Arthur was doing via a telly screen. It was a little bit sad.

He hadn't even turned on the lights. So, yeah, he was feeling sorry for himself and missing Arthur – even though he'd seen him two days before – and the rest of the team as well. Him and most of the team had become friends. Merlin knew their habits and idiosyncrasies. He knew about their little routines. For example, he was sure that Elyan would be double checking everything right now and then he'd be going through another check before Sunday just because thoroughness was important to him. Elena would be ready to spring into action every time the cars were back for a pit stop. She'd be both primed for action and wearing a smile as she prepared herself for the big moments.

Lancelot would always support Arthur and do his best by team and team-mate. Arthur would do even more than that. He'd be brilliant.

Merlin sighed and rubbed his eyes. Moping after his lost job and Arthur's absence wouldn't help him one bit in the long run. He'd have to find another job and be content with being with Arthur when Excalibur's crazy schedules allowed.

For now though he could enjoy the action on his TV screen.

Merlin had just taken in the latest development in the free trials, when the doorbell rang. At four in the morning. Merlin squinted at his door. Who the hell could it be? It couldn't be Will because he loved his weekend lie-ins. And he couldn't think of anyone else with the guts to turn up on his doorstep so late it was actually morning.

He padded over to the door, making sure to have a look through the peep-hole. Even through its distorting lenses he recognised Vivian's face.

Merlin opened the door. Vivian was sloppily dressed; she had joggers on and a denim shirt knotted at the waist. Her hair was arranged in a messy top bun, strands of hair flying out of it in all directions. She didn't look like the Vivian he thought he knew, always perfectly turned out and stylish. “Hey, what's happened? Flat flooded again?” 

Vivian was wringing her hands and giving him a desperate look. “No, no. I need to talk to you.” She looked behind him and into the flat. “Please?”

Merlin invited her in. He turned the telly off and invited her to take a seat in the armchair opposite his. He himself sat down on the edge of his seat, leaning forwards. Vivian was communicating her anxiety to him so he was eager to learn what she had to tell. “Vivian, has something happened?”

Her eyes were preternaturally large and blue. “I have a confession to make.”

Even though he had no idea what she was talking about, Merlin nodded. “Okay, all right. Go ahead.”

Vivian moved off the armchair and took his hands in hers. She went on her knees to do so. “Promise me you won't be furious.”

Her eyes were filled with tears and that alone would have made him prone to reassure her, but he didn't like her opener. “Vivian, you're making me nervous now.”

She bobbed her head up and down in agreement, her grip on Merlin's hands more punishing. “There's a reason we met,” she said, her voice much lower than her usual chirpy registers.

“Arthur got you into that club,” said Merlin, remembering. “And then you rang me up and wanted to date me but I said--”

Vivian's grip on Merlin's hands became tighter still. “No,” Vivian said, her eyes boring into him. “There was a plan. I was meant to date Arthur. But then I caught a glimpse of you and I saw a better opportunity.”

Merlin scowled, lost and confused. What the hell was she going on about? “I'm not sure I get you.”

“You'll have to understand, I was threatened,” Vivian said. She had this deer in the headlights look that made a sense of unease work through Merlin, especially when she mentioned the word 'threatened'. “I just... It was one thing leading to the next.”

“You'll have to begin from the beginning if you want me to understand,” Merlin said, returning the pressure of Vivian's hands.

“All right.” Vivian bowed her head. “I told you I was going out with Valiant before meeting Arthur, didn't I?”

“Yeah,” said Merlin, not seeing what this was leading to. “You did, but what...”

Vivian's tone got a bit less frantic and more sad and anecdotal. “I dated Valiant for some three months before understanding he was a self-centred bully. He got drunk often, though obviously not when he had a race. He was violent too. Not to me but others.” She gave a small sigh. “The number of times he'd come home from a bar brawl was staggering. I decided to call it quits. I'd been stupid. I was reeled in by the fame and the glitter and when I saw who he really was...”

“You dumped him...”

Vivian put her head on his knees. “That wasn't so linear. See, I had fun with him. We did more than hang out. I had so much 'fun' I did things I would never have done if not spurred by him. Some of them aren't very kosher. And Valiant's got proof. Proof that would break my daddy's heart.”

Merlin felt his stomach hollowing out. “You're being blackmailed?”

“Yes,” said Vivian hollowly, wringing her hands. “I never talk about my dad but I love him so much and he's old. I can't break his heart. I can't let Valiant tell dad.”

Merlin's eyes widened. “Vivian, what are you trying to tell me?”

Vivian looked up. “It wasn't by chance that I met you. I was sent to do some espionage, get to know someone from Excalibur. That would offer me a prime opportunity to lay my hands on your secrets. At first Arthur seemed like the perfect pick. He had insider knowledge and was known to date lots of paddock girls. He seemed like the natural choice. Western helped me worm my way in. They knew how. They belonged to that world. But then you were there. Their new CD. You had to know more than Arthur. In spades. It was just perfect.”

Merlin felt his sweat go cold on his skin. “Two months ago. When you stayed...”

“I took a few dossiers from your computer.”

“How?” Merlin asked, standing abruptly and causing Vivian to lean away. “My laptop's password protected!”

“I'm not an idiot,” said Vivian. “I was actually studying Information Technology before I met Valiant.”

“That's...” Merlin balled his fists. He didn't want to shout at a girl he'd once thought of as a friend. But he'd lost his job. Arthur was losing face and might have to end up on another team once his contract with Excalibur ran out. Valiant had got away with nothing but a fine and Western was poised to win both the WDC and the constructors' championship. And not on merit. It was so unfair, it didn't bear thinking about. “Why would you even think that was an all right thing to do?”

Vivian uncoiled and stood, whip quick. “Because I love my dad. Because he's old and his heart's frail. And this is just bloody Formula 1. Who cares which team wins! There's so much money involved in the behind the scenes, it's not going to make a difference to anyone.”

Merlin wanted to pull at his hair but didn't. He could see where she was coming from. Real lives mattered more than championships. Championships _were_ games for rich people. Winning and losing would only impact the lives of the big players, who could stand not having their way for one year. But he was still angry with her.

He wished he could punch a hole in the wall so he could release the frustration he felt. He'd lost a patent, a job he loved and the chance to continue at it with the new friends he'd been making. Besides, this wasn't only affecting him. Arthur had a right to that shot at his dream. He'd worked hard for it. It was sad to think he was losing for reasons that were beyond his powers to control. 

Yet, winning a championship wasn't that important in the grand scheme of things. He could see that. There had been a time he wouldn't have cared either. He'd have marvelled at the engines and not given a shit about who was getting points. “Okay, all right. Let's say I understand that,” Merlin said, hands on his hips. “Why on earth are you telling me now?”

“Because in good conscience I can't let what's happening go on.”

Merlin stalked forwards, grabbing Vivian by the forearms. “What do you mean? Is there more?”

Vivian lowered hear head. “I talked with Valiant and his boss. They said they didn't need me anymore. They stole your engine blueprints, but that wasn't enough to get Arthur consistently off the podium. They told me I was done. I got suspicious. Why would I be done if they still needed to do more. So I--” She took a big breath. “Bugged one of Western's offices. They think because I'm a blonde who's been a paddock girl I must be stupid. But I have it all on tape. They mean to tamper with Arthur's car.”

Merlin wanted to vomit. Faulty mechanics at those speeds meant... Merlin launched himself at the phone, dialling as fast as he could without punching in the wrong numbers. “I'm calling Elena. Then I'm getting the police,” he said, as the dial tone sounded.” He pointed at his i-pad. “I want you to book us a flight out to Singapore.”

 

*****

 

Arthur slid into the cockpit, the mechanics surrounding him fussing around each minor detail. He was ready for the afternoon part of the qualifying sessions and so was all the team, even though the air was still tense in the paddocks, with people still missing Merlin and mostly direction-less since no new CD had been appointed yet.

Elyan was acting as substitute, holding onto a clipboard and marking items off his list. However good he was, he wasn't the chief designer and was doing what he could at a job not his.

Arthur was trying to smile so as to give the team a sense of purpose and belonging. Help them get to the end of the season. After all, they still all wanted to win. Since for contract reasons Arthur hadn't been able to back out when Merlin was sacked, he owed it to the others to still do his best.

And he would. He held a grudge against their managing director and a lesser one against Mr Taliesin, who should have fought on Merlin's behalf, but he couldn't disappoint those team members who had nothing to do with Merlin's unjust dismissal.

The car was hooked up on the dollies connected to the starter mechanisms. They were a moment away from firing the twenty-four volts needed to turn the engine on, when Elena came running over to them. “Stop it all; we need to take the car apart.”

Arthur took off his helmet without climbing out of the cockpit. “What do you mean we need to take the car apart? Qualifying is about to start.” He didn't have to point at the monitors showing images of the track to make his point.

Elena waved her hands frantically. “Merlin called. He says someone tampered with the car. You can't drive it. It's not safe.”

Mr Taliesin stepped in. “Merlin? As in Merlin Emrys? Are we sure he's not just sore about the loss of his job?”

“Merlin would never play such a trick,” said Arthur. “If he says someone's tampered with the car then someone has.”

Elena nodded. “I want to take the car apart.”

“But where's the evidence?” asked Mr Taliesin. “Our team has been hovering around this car ever since Thursday night. When would someone have tampered with it? But let's assume they had. Why has nobody noticed? There are hundreds of mechanical geniuses on this team. Are you telling me nobody realised there was an anomaly?”

“I think we should go through the car with a fine tooth comb,” Elena said, grabbing the clipboard from Elyan. “I think we should test the engine under stress conditions. Take the chassis apart.”

Elyan glowered at the clipboard snatching but he did say, “I agree with Elena. We can't risk Arthur.”

Arthur climbed out of the cockpit. “I'm not driving this car.”

He didn't want to join the ranks of dead F1 pilots.

“But what proof does Merlin have?” Mr Taliesin asked, looking from Arthur to Elyan to Elena. 

“I can give him a ring so you can talk to him for the full story,” Elena said, while circling the car with a frown. She was clearly looking for the best approach angle to take the car apart. “Though details aren't important now.”

“No,” Elyan agreed. “We should contact the police and race authorities.”

Mr Taliesin lowered his head, hands on his hips. “You're right, of course. We're not racing today. We're taking this up to FIA and to the stewards.”

Arthur watched as the mechanics took the car apart, as race officials inspected the paddocks and as finally a FIA representative arrived. The case was put to them. There was a lot of nodding and humming, high words spoken when one of the race representatives refused to cancel the qualifying session without proof of actual tampering. More harried hand gestures took place as they all waited for the team to find the evidence needed to support their claim.

The clock ticking, Arthur sat down, helmet still in hand.

The engine was in pieces; the chassis had been lifted off. Computer scans were being run on each single component to reveal proof of sabotage.

Elyan walked up to Arthur. “If they don't find proof, we're going to be in lots and lots of trouble.”

Arthur's jaw locked so tight his teeth hurt. He believed Merlin. He believed somebody had tried to take his life. The fact that Western might end up winning even though Arthur's car was out of the race so provoking it put Arthur on edge. Thinking they'd failed to kill him by a thread was even more infuriating. “Call Merlin,” he said. “He designed the car, if there's anyone who can guess which part was tampered with so that it wouldn't show immediately, it's him.”

Elyan looked to Mr Taliesin but the latter was busy arguing with the FIA official. “I shouldn't be doing this considering that Merlin is no longer part of the team but I'll get him on the phone.”

A couple of minutes later Elyan came back wielding his mobile. He pressed a key and set up the loudspeaker mode. “Elyan,” Merlin said on his end. “I'm about to board a plane to get to you.”

“That's great Merlin,” Elyan said, shooting Arthur a meaningful glance. “But listen, we can't find proof of meddling. We need to or we're in trouble... Legal, rules-wise, every sort of trouble you can think of and we're in it.”

“Oh shit,” said Merlin. Arthur could hear him thumping up what sounded like metal stairs. “What can I do?”

“If you had to tamper with the 26...” Elyan asked in a voice sharp as a blade, “if you had to slow it down or make it unresponsive and yet guarantee that nobody finds proof of it, what would you do?”

Arthur heard Merlin hum. 

“There's tons of things you could do,” Merlin said. The rustling of paperwork being handed back and forth made itself heard. A polite feminine voice sounded in the background. Arthur assumed it was the flight attendant. “Have you got charts?”

“Heaps,” said Elyan, looking at the print outs that were being produced for the techs' benefit. “We need help narrowing it down.”

Merlin said, “Oh, God, how do I guess without access to the raw data?”

“I could mail it to you but you're about to take off, I gather.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, huffing and puffing as he, Arthur guessed, went down the plane's aisle. “Yeah.”

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said barging in on the conversation, “I know you can figure it out. You know I...” Arthur paused, eyes sliding to Elyan for a brief moment. He filled his lungs with air then, as he let it out, he said, “You know I trust you.”

Merlin was so silent on his end Arthur feared the line had been cut off, but then Merlin said, “I'd either create fatigue cracks in the steering column so that it would fail at some point or damage the rear-drive shaft. Cause some extra wear.”

“I'll go tell Elena to check,” said Elyan, giving the phone to Arthur. “Take care.”

Before hanging up, Arthur said, “I want you here like nothing else.”

“I'm coming,” Merlin said, the promise clear.

Arthur grinned and switched off the loudspeaker function. “You bet,” he said, choosing to misinterpret Merlin's words.

Merlin broke into uncontrollable laughter. “You big knob, I sort of love you, you know. I'm glad you're safe.”

“I didn't even make it on the track. I'm okay. ” Arthur's heart expanded in his chest. “Thanks to you. Just... Just get your tiny arse over here, all right? There's a job waiting for you, I suspect. They owe it to you to take you back.” 

The line went dead for real this time, Merlin probably having had to switch his phone off, but Arthur didn't mind. That only meant Merlin was one step closer to getting there. Arthur would see him again. He was looking forward to it.

One man from the group of mechanics and experts gathered around the EX-26 said, “It's the steering column. There are hairline cracks! Look.”

*****

> **GRANDE PRÊMIO DO BRASIL – Sao Paolo**  
> 

Merlin watched Arthur do stretching exercises at the back of the garage. The cars were ready, the engines quiet. After what had happened this season the team now always used the pre race time to make sure everything was right with the car. There was no exception this time; they were flitting around the mono-seater, testing and re-testing components.

Merlin walked over to Arthur, clipboard in hand. “So last Grand Prix of the season and if you win this you get the championship.”

Arthur put his leg back down, finishing his hamstring stretch. “We're not talking about it.”

Merlin grinned. “Nervous?”

Arthur took the clipboard from Merlin and whacked him over the head with it. “Shut up, Merlin. I'm a champ. I don't get nervous.”

“Oh come on,” Merlin said, massaging his head so he could pretend he'd been hurt. “There's no one to fear. That psycho Valiant is in prison for helping with the tampering and you can take Mercia. You can take De Ganis.”

“Thank you for thinking that with Valiant in the game I'd have more reason to fear not getting the title.” Arthur pouted, lower lip sticking out. “Your confidence in me is astounding-”

Merlin shut Arthur up with a kiss. This time he didn't care who was looking. People now knew they were together and with Merlin accepted back into the Excalibur team on his own steam there was no one that would suspect Merlin's job was assured by anything other than his qualifications. He'd proved to all and sundry his designs were the best, so much so Western had seen fit to steal them. “Now come. We need to do a radio check. I don't want to find out about any dead radio corners at the last minute.”

Once again Merlin stood as Arthur slid into the EX-26. As Arthur took a radio check lap, he kept up a continuous stream of chatter. It was needed to be sure of radio functionality. But because sometimes Arthur was driving over bumps, his voice occasionally developed a measure of shakiness. “... into the bottom hair-pin now,” he said, just to say something that would allow Merlin to check the connection. “Second, thiiird. Fouuurth...” Merlin was getting him with perfect clarity and happily checking radio functionality when Arthur said, “You knoooow, I never said it back, but... I love you.”

Merlin dropped his pencil and smiled. “That's good,” he said into his mike. “Because I'm goofy for you too.”

Arthur rumbled a laugh in his ears. “Odd choice of words but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Come back to the pit lane, idiot. You have to prepare for the race.”

“Oh,” Arthur rumbled, “a true romantic.”

 

****

> **GRANDE PRÊMIO DO BRASIL – Sao Paolo**

This was Arthur's chance to make his dream come true. This was Arthur's moment. Lancelot, a place behind him on the grid, gave him the thumbs up. He, too, felt it.

The television cameras locked onto him so Arthur was sure that by now his team had their eyes on the television screens. Merlin would be by the pit wall monitoring him. They would all be trusting him to win this.

With Western disqualified from the championship and struggling under the weight of penal charges, Excalibur only had Mercia's consistently strong de Ganis to fear. 

Now everything depended on how many pit stops Mercia went for. How many times de Ganis would stop. At Excalibur they had toyed with every possible option.

Assuming Arthur made a good start, he could run with a full fuel load. That would make overtaking hard and also mean that he would have to dictate the race from the start. He had to if he wanted to nix de Ganis' hopes of running light in the opening part of the race. It was the most prudent course of action.

They were wagering on the tyres holding and on accommodating the extra fuel weight. The tyres would suffer but they'd all agreed on their choice. To win Arthur couldn't rely on any tricks. He'd have to go for three stops and a less nimble car. He'd have to use his skills against Mercia's play on tactics.

Winning was important. 

He didn't want to let anybody down. A t the end of the day a lot depended on this bloody start, the last of the season.

Arthur had no time to muse over the issue too long because the race was on.

Arthur went for the lead. His case was helped by Essetir's team making almost as good starts as his, thus stopping de Ganis from snatching first place.

Thanks to them Arthur sliced through the field, taking first position. He was aware that a lot was going on behind him but he didn't let himself be distracted. Merlin and Taliesin kept him up to date so he'd know how to adjust his driving. “De Ganis is glued to King's back and closing in.”

“So he'll be coming for me next?” Arthur concluded, gritting his teeth through a chicane.

“Did you think he wouldn't?”

“No,” Arthur said, holding onto the steering wheel. “I didn't. Was betting on it rather.”

“No worries,” said Lancelot, “I'm behind him. I think I'm going to bother him a bit.”

Behind Lancelot zigzagged as much as he could so that de Ganis wouldn't pass him. Lancelot was able to hold the line and hang onto his third place. Unfortunately, on the run down to lap fifteen Arthur saw de Ganis edge ahead of Lancelot.

There was only one car between him and de Ganis now. One person in the shape of Cador, whom Arthur knew not to be a tenacious driver, stood between Arthur and having to vie against de Ganis for victory. 

And then it happened; de Ganis made a bold move into turn twenty-five and it paid off. Cador dropped back and Arthur had de Ganis directly in his rear.

An immediate battle developed between them. 

“Don't let him through,” said Mr Taliesin. “He'll have to stop soon.”

De Ganis was pushing hard and although Arthur had the lead out to 3.232 seconds, he began to match Arthur's pace. He was right there. “Fuck,” said Arthur.

“He isn't going for a pit stop,” said Taliesin. “Christ, he's going to try and keep the car light to the finish to overtake you.”

“Do I do the same?” 

There was radio silence. Arthur kept on trying to block the Mercia driver. “No, but don't come in now.”

At the fast thirty-two and thirty-three, de Ganis forced the issue by going around the outside at thirty-two. He had Arthur now. He had overtaken him and Arthur could do nothing about it lest he crash the car. De Ganis had chosen the perfect moment for overtaking. He was light. Light as a feather thanks to his own number of pit stops. If he played his cards right he could dream to finish the race while still on low fuel. All this while Arthur's strategy had been publicised as involving three stops.

De Ganis was betting on Excalibur's more traditional strategy being their undoing.

“We're changing tyres,” Merlin said in a decisive voice when things started looking dire for Excalibur. He'd just taken an executive decision without the input of the team but with how things had gone everyone was inclined to respect Merlin more now. He'd saved Arthur's life and proved that Western could only win thanks to the design stolen from him. “Arthur, come back to the pit.”

Arthur knew one single moment of doubt – seconds would be lost just when they needed it least– but then he pulled into the pits, where the car was refuelled and the tyres were changed to harder compound ones. This was going to be a crucial call for them. His other competitors were all staying on the soft compound. This was a big gamble.

One that paid off, Arthur found out as soon as the car was back on track. He had better grip and better grip gave him better manoeuvrability.

Better manoeuvrability made it possible for him to regain all lost ground.

A few laps later he had only de Ganis to take on. He cranked up the pace and stayed on de Ganis' wing. “Wait for an opening,” Taliesin instructed, “take it easy.”

He and de Ganis engaged in a dog fight lasting ten laps. The track at Sao Paolo featured one oval turn followed by a front straight-away. Coming onto that banked circuit portion, Arthur drafted up right behind de Ganis, using a spot de Ganis would be virtually driving blind through, then shot past him as they hurled themselves down the narrow left-hand turn leading into the infield. 

De Ganis wasn't braking, risking it big time, but even so Arthur was ahead of him. He had the lead of the race.

Arthur wouldn't allow himself to think about that, not until he had the final lap in the bag, but he still kept the pace he had set and obstructed de Ganis whenever he tried to recuperate. 

If he just maintained his spot, his first place, Arthur would win. This would be the most important victory of his career, because he was no longer that naïve eighteen year old taking things for granted and because he would share this one with Merlin. 

A sea of arms rose from the stands as Arthur passed the finish. Victorious. 

 

****

>   
> **Sao Paolo, Brasil, later that night**

p>

“We're numbers 235 and 564,” Arthur told him, jiggling the hotel keys.

Merlin grabbed a random key. It didn't matter where they went as long as they got some privacy. “Let's go,” he said, pushing Arthur into the lift. After the interview, after the paddock celebrations, they'd partied to honour the double win – WDC and constructors championship. The team had been at it all night long, carousing, dancing and chanting together. 

By the small hours, Merlin had shared Arthur long enough. Now he wanted to celebrate in his own way; with Arthur, alone and preferably naked. It was high time.

As the lift travelled to the correct floor, Arthur stayed close and that made Merlin even more determined to have him.

By the door, Arthur said huskily, “Let's step in.”

Arthur entered first, flipped on the light, made an appreciative noise at the room's décor, and then turned around so he was facing Merlin. 

Merlin followed him. He'd have been okay with having sex with Arthur in a stable but he couldn't say a comfy bed would be unwelcome.

“This is nice,” Merlin said, looking around.

Arthur grabbed him by the hips and pulled him close. “I hope the room's not the only thing you consider nice around here.”

“Oh my God,” said Merlin, “after all the fawning you were on the receiving end of today you still want to be praised! You're really a bit of an attention whore, aren't you?”

Arthur's eyes twinkled devilishly. “Nah, I only want your attention.”

Merlin pulled Arthur more firmly into his arms. Arthur's Adam's apple bounced expectantly. Merlin acted. How could he not? By now he knew Arthur wanted him. He knew they were in it together, possibly for the long haul. 

He locked Arthur to himself; one of his hands grabbing Arthur's athletic arse, the other at his nape, holding his head. He took his mouth into an open kiss, plunging his tongue in deep, taking, claiming. 

Maybe the victory and the champagne had gone to his head a bit, but Merlin saw no reason not to let Arthur know how much he wanted him. 

Besides, Arthur didn't seem to mind at all. He twisted his hips against Merlin's, surprising a gasp out of him. Merlin's cock started filling, heat working pleasantly under his skin. “What do you want?”

“To the victors go the spoils,” Merlin said as cheekily as he could.

“But I won too,” said Arthur, feigning offence. He had the spoilt brat look down pat. Now he was just playing a part, though maybe once it hadn't been as much of one perhaps. Maybe when he was younger Arthur had come closer to being that privileged git, but he wasn't now.

Affection flooding him, Merlin said, “Then we'll have to compromise.”

“I think that can be done.” Arthur unbuttoned Merlin's shirt and pushed it off him, sucking on his neck and shoulders as soon as they were bare.

Merlin's fingers tightened around a fistful of Arthur's shirt. “That's good, continue on.”

“I'm glad I have your approval,” said Arthur. At first his tone was light but then he gazed at Merlin so softly all irony went out the window and Merlin couldn't doubt he was in earnest. “I'm--” Arthur kissed Merlin passionately, then eased him on the floor. “devastated--”

They stripped each other of their clothes with hurried, frantic moves, Merlin pushing Arthur's shirt up and off, Arthur yanking down Merlin's jeans and the socks that went with them. When they were naked, Arthur tumbled back into Merlin's arms and smiled. “Floored. Done for.”

Merlin bucked his hips. “So eloquent.”

“So impatient,” Arthur said, eyes shining brightly. “And here I was wanting to show my love.”

Merlin hit Arthur's shoulder with his palm, resulting in a little thwack, but Arthur's expression didn't change one bit. If anything, Arthur's smile widened and his chest filled. 

“I-uh--” He stopped talking when Arthur started kissing, his eyes, his face, his neck, nuzzling his armpit, and sucking a nipple in his mouth, then moving downwards. “Don't stop.”

Arthur didn't, dipping his tongue into Merlin's navel while his hand grazed the inside of Merlin's thighs. He was clearly deliberately not touching Merlin's cock. The bastard.

“I want you to suck me,” Merlin said.

Arthur tipped up an eyebrow but then he lowered his mouth, blew on Merlin's cock, and when Merlin's skin started erupting in goose flesh, he took him in his mouth. He began to lick down Merlin's shaft in long, soft stripes. 

Merlin couldn't believe how good this was. He felt like his bones were going soft.

Arthur grasped the base of Merlin's cock and squeezed it, swirling his tongue around the underside. As he did so he released a low smug hum. Not content with this, Arthur began to tease his balls, kneading them with his fingers as he lowered soft lips over the head of Merlin's cock.

Liquid pleasure ran the length of Merlin's cock and settled into his spine. 

Before going down on him Arthur took a deep breath and held it. 

Merlin's head filled with white noise; his heart started to racing faster than the EX-26. Arthur just knew how to play him. He had an instinct for it. Helpless, Merlin ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, his eyes watering. Arthur was deep throating him and he just couldn't stand still and take it. It was simply impossible. It was like torture. He wanted to move and buck and shout.

Arthur made a noise, an encouraging one, and that was enough to get Merlin moving into his mouth.

When Arthur jammed a finger inside him it burnt and it was enough. Merlin's started coming. So as not to choke, Arthur backed off, and Merlin sprayed his own belly with ropes of sticky come.

It didn't matter though. Arthur licked him clean and used the excess come to open Merlin up. 

However sensitive and sore, Merlin still wanted more. Arthur seemed to know, for he bent Merlin's knees and hooked them over his shoulders. 

With one thrust Arthur drove home, taking to shallowly pumping his hips. Initially he fucked Merlin with long, slow, perfect strokes. Merlin's sighing sounds punctuated Arthur's movements every so often. They increased as Arthur's hips slammed forward.

However much Merlin tried to keep his moans behind his lips, the sound of flesh on flesh made Merlin want to be loud. His mind was in a fog. Everything was Arthur and the pleasure his body could give him. 

Everything narrowed down to the physical. He felt Arthur's palms on his thighs, the warmth of him inside, the weight of him pinning him down. It was glorious. In moments like this Arthur's presence blotted out every other thought in the universe for Merlin. And it wasn't just the sex. Arthur managed to because he was Arthur and he filled Merlin's heart with warmth.

Though the sex was good, too.

Merlin chuckled. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said.

Arthur's teeth rasped sharply against Merlin's neck as his body jerked forwards one more time and locked down tight. Climax ripped through him.

When he was done, Arthur slumped on top of him, allowing Merlin to lower his legs. “So,” he said. “Was this a good way to celebrate?”

Merlin clenched his eyes shut. He felt so cosy and lethargic he only wanted to sleep, even though he was lying on the floor.

“I'll give you ten points,” Merlin said.

“What!” Arthur screeched, outraged. “I was excellent. And you get twenty five for a grand prix first place. I'd thought this'd rate higher.”

Merlin clocked Arthur one upside the head, messing his already messy bed hair up further. “Shut up, Arthur. It's sleepy times now. I've got to begin designing the 27 tomorrow.”

“Sleepy times,” Arthur repeated incredulously. “Sleepy times?” But he let Merlin be, tugging on the bed cover. Merlin spied his actions out of half parted eyelids and saw him wrest with it till it came untucked and slipped off the bed. He covered them with it, dirty as they were. They'd wash later anyway.

With Arthur right there beside him, Merlin had barely time to decide he was perfectly toasty before he'd already fallen asleep.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on [this story](http://www.thefreelibrary.com/Italian+police+visit+homes+of+McLaren+executives+in+spy+scandal-a01611536272)


End file.
